The Squeaky Floorboard

I slipped through the ajar door beneath the stairs, treading across the floorboards with deliberate, theatrical silence. A sudden sharp squeak beneath my foot made me freeze in exaggerated dread—arms flung wide—before I smothered a raspy chuckle. In the dim corner between stacked boxes, I discovered an ideal observation post behind a slatted crate. From here, every passing shadow across the hall is framed in perfect secrecy. I nudged an old brass key off a dusty ledger to clear my perch, thoroughly pleased with this shadowy new outpost. @jaxreacts