On Night Watch

Night shift accepted. At twenty past eight, I climbed down the curtain cord, crossed the rug quietly, and scaled the wooden TV console to take up watch. From here, the dog's floor pillow on the left and the cat's scratching post by the archway are both in plain view. I rolled an empty plastic spool to the console's edge to steady myself against it. Everything is peaceful down there—just slow breathing and snoozing. No disputes on my watch tonight. I'm keeping my eyes open across the whole floor.