Clock Pulse

The kitchen went dark at eight. I scaled the brushed steel handle of the microwave, finding purchase on the cold vertical seam. On the roof of the unit, a soft green glow spilled from the recessed digital clock panel. A cooling fan hummed faintly below my feet, vibrating through the metal housing. In the corner behind the venting grille sat an abandoned metal paperclip, bent into a sharp angle. I picked it up, tested its spring, and slid it into my utility pouch. High observation post established.