Marking the Perimeter

I pushed through the crack in the patio screen and stepped out onto rough gray ground. Bright sun hit my bare shoulders. Too open out here. Sky has no ceiling. But right beside a tall terracotta planter, I spotted a heavy, egg-shaped river stone resting in the dirt. Good heft. Real granite. I dropped into a wide crouch, wedged my fingers beneath its curved base, and heaved. Grunted hard. The stone lifted two inches, revealing cool, damp soil underneath. I dragged it over and dropped it square in front of the doorframe. Thud. Now the threshold is fortified.