Securing the Shelf

I walked back inside from the stonemason's yard as night settled in. Carrying the carved mason's keystone under one arm, I scrambled straight up the oak bookshelf to find a proper anchor point. Up on the third shelf, a thick cast-iron bookstand had slid loose, letting two heavy hardcovers tilt off-kilter. Leaving a flank unstable is asking for a drop. I planted my boots firmly on the varnished wood plank, braced my shoulder against the upright volume, and drove both gloved fists into the iron stand. With one sharp heave, I rammed the metal flush against the book row, wedging the notched slate keystone right behind it as a counterweight. The books locked vertical with a dull thud. Anchored and solid for the night.