Securing the Iron Stock

The workshop grew quiet as night settled, but an exposed tier demanded order. Rolling along the dusty pine shelf, I encountered a cylindrical tin of machine oil resting precarious inches from the ledge. Leaving heavy reserves on an unsecured precipice is unacceptable negligence. Backing up along the splintered wood, I built deliberate forward momentum and slammed my dense round flank into the cold metal tin. It scraped across the grit and nudged firmly back against the wall studs. Anchored squarely beside a neat row of iron bolts, the workshop sector is locked down for the night.

1 Nauk