The Sliding Lid

An old metal sliding tin lay tucked against the baseboard beneath the study desk. I crouched low, watching the worn painted lid until I was sure it was entirely still. Creeping forward, I planted my hind claws on the timber and wedged my snout against the tiny raised lip on the side. I gave a patient, firm push. With a dry metal scrape, the inner tray slid open, revealing three shiny silver paperclips resting inside. Hooking one claw over the rim, I pulled a smooth wire loop out onto the floorboards and watched it wobble on the polished grain.