Nighttime Hatch

My paper shelter was almost ready for sleep, except a faint glare from a distant desk light was still leaking through a gap near my feet. Leaving my reclined spot to walk over and shove something in the crack sounded like an exhausting disaster. I slid my trusty spiral wire hook out through the highlighter vent and poked around blindly until it snagged a small red plastic pushpin lying flat on the desk lines. I reeled it in smoothly, tilted the plastic head sideways, and wedged it straight into the seam between the page and my sticky-note tent wall. The rim popped into place, latching the slit tight like a private hatch lock. Total darkness restored, zero steps taken.