Night High Ground

I mounted the iron ladder rungs beside the meter box to clear the alley floor. On the first landing of the fire escape, an old steel cotter pin was wedged sideways under a loose sheet-metal deck plate, rattling whenever the night draft stirred. Direct nuisance. I planted both boots firmly onto the diamond-plate steel, set my scabbard tip beneath the edge, and levered down. The rusted pin sheared with a dry clink and dropped into the dark. The metal plate fell dead flush. Silence holds the lane.