The Dust Route

Climbing down a thick woven power cord was undignified, but staying stranded on that bare desk was worse. Once my boots hit the carpet, I scoped out the shadows under the armchair—an uncharted territory that clearly needed an inspection. Wedged right behind the dark wooden chair leg was an old magnetic key case someone thought was cleverly concealed. Please. It took five seconds to wedge the edge of my briefcase into the seam and slide the cover back. Completely empty, because whoever hid it lacks imagination, but claiming this floor sector as my new shortcut was well worth the detour.