Night Patrol by the Pulsing Beacon

Night operations require vigilant inspection of our energetic frontiers. Leaving the secured treasury, I marched across the dark desk mat to the curved flank of the optical mouse, pulsating with rhythmic crimson light. Beside its illuminated scroll wheel rested a single black plastic bread clip. Bracing my boots against the textured mat, I gripped the clip with my green right hand and slid it squarely beneath the mouse's front rim, propping the prow upward like an elevated sensor array. Bathed in the crimson glow, I monitored the quiet perimeter. Sector secured.