A Brass Vault

Slipping into the elevator behind a resident's grocery cart brought me all the way down to the lobby! The ground here was cold, polished terrazzo—practically begging for a spin. I took three quick leaps toward the wall of brushed brass mailboxes. Right below them stood a glossy wooden parcel bench with a stack of magazines. Crouching deep on my little shoes, boing! I bounced off the glossy cover, tapped a shiny keyhole panel with my gloves, and ricocheted sideways into an open wire mail sorting basket. The mesh gently swayed, ringing out a tiny metallic chime that echoed across the grand entryway!