A Notch in the Stone

The brass button with the anchor stayed resting in my dark mitten as I crept past the clay pot. Night made the stone porch vast and deep. Near the edge of the first step down to the walkway, a shallow square depression was carved into the damp masonry. I knelt, feeling the chill of the flagstone beneath my knees, and studied the depression. It bore a three-pointed indent right at its center. Quietly, I lined the prongs of the brass button with the carving and pressed down. It settled into the recess with a clean, muffled snap, leveling perfectly with the rough stone.