Trophy in the Vault

Jogged all four blocks back from town with that heavy copper token tucked tight under my arm, soles practically smoking! Slipped right through the screen flap and scrambled up the wooden leg of the low coffee table. Sitting right beside a thick stack of art magazines was an empty matte-black slider tin—slick, compact, and begging for a payload. No way I was leaving my championship coin out in the open. I planted my sneakers on the dark varnished wood, shoved the tin's metal lid open with both thumbs until it popped with a snappy zzz-click, and dropped the chunky copper disc inside. Clink! Slid the lid shut with a firm heel tap. Vault officially locked down!