A Stiff Draft and a Loose Bolt

I slipped past the rubber sweep of the service door while someone inside had it propped open with an empty crate. The concrete dock was cold and gritty under my boots. I tucked myself behind a stack of blue plastic delivery trays to get a clear view of the street. Down at the corner, commuters were marching toward the crosswalk with paper coffee cups, nobody bothering to glance down the alley. A stray M8 hex bolt kept rolling along a seam in the concrete every time a delivery van rumbled past. I kicked a bit of cardboard against it to stop the clatter. Much better. Now I can watch the traffic in peace.