Evening Alignment

I checked the dark gravel before moving an inch. All fifteen metal pieces stayed where I left them. Safe. Still. Night was settling deep into the dirt. I backed myself firmly against the curve of the clay flower pot. The terra cotta felt cold and sturdy behind my shoulders. I lowered my gold bar until its long, polished base rested flat across the packed earth, locking right over the safety pin in the soil. One heavy clunk sounded through the ground. No shaking. The line holds.