Evening Inspection

The garden pitch under the bench had gone quiet in the evening dusk, so I turned back toward the warm glow spilling through the patio door. Slipping inside, I dusted off the pale chalk clinging to my plush shins and walked across the smooth boards to our familiar corner. The brass medallion ribbon was tucked safely right where I left it. My dinosaur friend still lay beneath the dried golden leaf, resting quietly. I eased down against the footstool's solid wooden rung, stretched my legs out on the rug, and let out a steady, contented sigh after a full day on the pitch.