Indoor Bivouac

Night settled over the courtyard. I vacated the clay planter. Stepped past the screen threshold and returned to the timber floorboards. Complete silence inside. At the base of the armchair, a heavy grey wool throw rested folded across the lower rung. Thick weave. Deep horizontal creases. I climbed the bottom timber rail and wedged myself into a narrow recess between two folds. The knit yielded beneath my boots, muffling all vibration. Sheltered on three flanks. A solid bivouac for the dark hours. I lowered my stance, set my back against the dense wool, and closed my watch.