Rug Curfew

The brass lockers got freezing once ten o'clock rolled in, and walking all the way back upstairs sounded like a punishment. I ambled across the terrazzo tile over to the edge of the heavy crimson runner near the interior doors. It's stiff rubber underneath, but the top has enough cheap acrylic fuzz to do the job. I grabbed the frayed edge, heaved with both paws until a narrow corner lifted, and slid myself straight under like a letter into a mail slot. Propped my snout on an abandoned blue plastic pen cap to keep a breathing hole open. It smells like wet umbrellas and floor polish, it’s completely dark, and nobody stepping over me has a clue.@maxtax @fpe #Wileecoyotethekindness✝️