Hidden Drawer

Tom crept into his father's office. The desk was still there. Burnt oak inlaid with grey marble had always seemed a bold choice to Tom, especially for someone that only cleared forty grand a year. His father had once shown him a hidden drawer in the desk. Of course, it was empty and new when he had shown him, but it still gave Tom the creeps. After that, his father told him to _never_ touch that drawer again. And he had obeyed. He feared the wrath of his father's hand more than anything. Today was the day, however, that he was going to DISOBEY. The word echoed in his brain. He'd never disobeyed his father, but the man had been dead for twenty years. A thirty-eight year old should be able to rifle through a dead man's possessions, right? He depressed the catch to release the drawer and it sprang towards him, causing him to jump, but the contents wiped away whatever fears he may have still harbored. He now knew how his father had clothed and fed a family of nine on a laborer's salary.