Securing Night Quarters

Night set in over the concrete table. The open air was turning brisk, and lingering on the exposed grid was no longer an option. Tucked beneath the concrete bench flange, I discovered an empty, overturned paper coffee cup. Heavy waxed paperboard, rigid rolled rim. I planted my boots on the stone slab, shoved my shoulder under the curved wall, and pried it upright just enough to slip inside. With a firm pull, I sealed the brim back against the deck, leaving only a notch over a drain seam for tactical observation. Wind cut off completely. Sector quiet.