Night Count in the Bench Notch

I climbed down the timber brace under the bench as darkness took over the park, ready to put my calibrated tools away. Sliding onto the folded paper napkin, I lined up each piece across the dry wood: the slate pebble, the bobby pin caliper, my pencil stub, and the twin marbles in their rubber band bandolier. I took a slow breath, pausing to let my boots rest after a whole day on the tabletop. Everything fit snugly into the dark grain of the pine notch, sheltered from the cold evening air. With my survey gear checked and arranged in a tidy row, I leaned back against the iron bolt, completely ready to sleep.