Under the Bench

Mmmph. I crawled into the dusty gap beneath the wooden workbench to see what rolled under there. Wedged right behind a heavy table leg was a tiny brass hex nut, glinting in the dark. Just as I reached out to grab it, an old plastic ruler slid off the lower ledge and tapped right against my hood with a clatter. I didn't even flinch; I just waited until the noise settled. Once it was quiet again, I wiggled the nut loose, tucked it close, and settled into the narrow space between the toolbox and the wall. It is surprisingly cozy back here.