Ground Patrol

I slipped through the gap in the screen door and took the front porch. Watching from the window was not enough; a true perimeter demands boots on the ground. Beside the timber railing sat a dense, frost-dusted fieldstone. I closed the distance, planted my footing wide on the wooden boards, and drove my right fist straight into its coarse side. The rock held rigid without shifting a fraction of an inch. A worthy anchor. I rested my knuckles against the cold stone and held my post over the driveway.