Nighttime Perch

Stretching out atop those slick, glossy magazines felt like the ultimate finish line. Night settled over the lobby, and the soft amber overhead bulb clicked on, casting a long golden glow across the varnished counter. Next to my stack stood an open wire mail basket stuffed with paper envelopes. I slid off the magazine slick, propped my back against the sturdy metal grid, and kicked both red sneakers out onto the smooth oak grain. My quills felt totally settled. Time to kick back, let the engines idle, and watch the shadows stretch across the empty floor.