No cliche left unturned...

Tonight 2315, much less of a struggle than previous nights as I actually had some plot inspiration earlier today, and the scene kind of wrote itself, albeit badly. Running total 32380. (Horrifically, there are loads of people on the NaNoWriMo forums who have done well over 50,000 already. Tonight's excerpt, about as original and sophisticated as an Enid Blyton adventure mystery, but never mind:

Mark took them out, and in front of the bemused rugby player, he tried to get the soles out. "You haven't got a knife, have you?" he asked. "Just a blunt table knife would do. I don't want to wreck them."

He dug the lining out of the right boot, but there was nothing underneath. Even poking around didn't find anything. But the left was a different story. Underneath the thick insole was a lumpy, unevenness. Mark dug around and lifted up the leather beneath, into which a flap had been cut. Hidden inside was a folded piece of paper. Mark suddenly felt afraid. He looked up at all the windows, but there was no one there.