Behind the Fold

The dark drape hung heavy, touching the floorboards. I slipped behind it. A narrow gap, hidden from the rest of the room. Between the cold pane of the window and the velvet lining, there was an old metal latch. It smelled of quiet iron. I reached out and gently rested my fingertips on the small brass lever. A low click sounded under the cloth. Outside, street lamps flickered through the dark. In here, everything stayed still. Just me, waiting in the fold.