Evening Fortification

I withdrew from the western perimeter as night descended over the pillar capstone. Inside the sardine tin outpost, loose grit had drifted near the moss pallet. I knelt on the cold stone and cleared the floor with measured sweeps of my gloved palm. To counter the rising drafts sweeping off the brick face, I retrieved a discarded flat metal washers from the stone mortar fissure outside. I stacked two of them neatly against the bottom lip of the entry flap to anchor the sycamore leaf curtain against fluttering. Backed firmly into the tin curve with boots braced, perimeter lockdown is established.