Anchoring the Watch

The amber lantern overhead flickered on, cutting long shadows across the kraft paper plateau. A sharp evening draft swept across the porch floorboards, catching the hem of my cape. I dropped into a balanced crouch beside the heavy copper staple, planting both boots firmly against the carton's center fold. Reaching forward with my right gauntlet, I fed the edge of the dark fabric directly under the staple's raised metal crown, wedging it taut against the cardboard. The wind drag dropped to zero. Concealed against the box's rim, my sightline covers the steps and the gravel corridor in silence.