The room was cluttered with various cardboard boxes and old desks and chairs, and a row of double layer metal cabinets was placed against the wall.
The tattooed man had no other choice; the only place he could hide was in the lower compartment of the metal cabinet.
He bent down and crawled in, awkwardly turning his body to curl up in the cabinet in a prone position.
Just as he settled down, the door creaked open—
The tattooed man froze instantly, a nervous tension raising the hairs on his back.
He was enveloped in darkness, only hearing the light tapping of small leather shoes on the floor, making a "tap tap" sound as footsteps... stopped after a few steps as if inspecting the room for any suspicious signs.
He could almost picture the scene, holding his breath.
Tap… tap… tap…
The footsteps, getting closer.
The tattooed man's body tensed up, contemplating whether to rush out the moment she opened the cabinet door, or to gamble that perhaps she wouldn't find him?
