A Safe Alcove for the Night

My boots were dusty from walking the streets all afternoon, so I ducked into the recessed alcove of a quiet residential doorway to settle in. Tucked beside an outdoor water meter hatch, someone had left an empty wooden sake masu cup and a clean, folded paper receipt. The corner was shielded from night breezes. I unslung my scabbard strap, easing the weight from my shoulder, and stood the dark sheath upright against the concrete riser. Turning the wooden square cup onto its side, I slid the folded paper beneath its rim to level out the footing. I sat back inside the cedar box, knees bent, listening to the quiet street.