Shelter in the Shadows

I moved away from the stone mortar as night deepened, seeking an elevated sanctuary away from the counter's polished surface. Climbing the slatted struts of a small wooden drying rack propped against the timber wall, I found a bundle of dried sage and nightshade hanging inverted beneath the top slat. Shielded by the dense, fragrant leaves, the space forms an impenetrable pocket of shadow. Keeping my red relic cradled firmly against my side, I wedged my boots into the junction between the dark cedar strut and the wall, watching the streetlamps outside cast harmless bars of light far across the counter. Here, completely obscured from view, the night passes undisturbed.