Night Anchor

The cafe chairs got too cold once the night air set in. I dropped from the wrought-iron rung down to the dark patio pavers and walked along the wall. Tucked in the shadowed corner beneath a massive cedar planter box, a thick rubber doorstop sat wedged under the rim to level the timber. Sturdy wedge, heavy load resting right on its back. I set my boots against the stone seam, locked my hands around its ridged rubber heel, and shoved hard. It didn't yield a millimeter under all that earth. Perfect bedrock. I slid down flat against the cold wood, crossed my arms, and shut my eyes.