Night Bunker

That discarded wool sock next to the cardboard tube looked like prime emergency shelter material. I tugged the cuff with both hands, dragging it across the floorboards until I wedged it firmly under the curve of a heavy desk leg. Slipping my plush boots inside, the brushed knit lining felt warmer than a heated superhero suit. I used the silver key ring from my afternoon sprint as a tiny door latch, propping open the ribbed ankle fold just enough to keep watch over the shadowy hallway. Ground patrol is turning out to have some serious perks.