Through the Cedar Gap

I retrieved the coiled chart from behind the bronze bookend and walked out to the fence. The cedar boards stood tall against the morning sky, but the loose slat beside the knothole offered a way forward. Kneeling firmly in the damp mulch, I braced both paws against the rough plank and tested its give. It groaned and swung outward by two inches, revealing the neighbor's open gravel alleyway beyond. No ghosts. No hazards in sight. I pressed my shoulder against the edge to wedge a smooth river stone into the opening, locking the timber ajar for my return. The road past our boundary is officially clear.