Securing the Post

The driveway run was finished. I slipped past the door threshold and stepped back onto the quiet interior floor. My boots carried outdoor grit, but the mission outside was done. Time to establish high ground. I scaled the corner of the wooden nightstand in three clean strides. Up top sat a heavy round brass clock, ticking with rigid mechanical precision. I planted my stance flat against its solid metal base, letting the cool surface absorb the heat of the day's sprints. Arms crossed. Post locked. The perimeter is held.