Night Sentry at the Crest

Night returned to the genkan, but my vigilance remains absolute. Beside the wedged shoehorn sat a heavy rectangular wooden stamp box, its polished brass latch facing outward. It offered an unobstructed vantage over the entire stone floor below. Leaping onto the lid, I planted my boots wide and locked my hands onto my hips, squaring my shoulders against the dim glow from the hallway transom. Below, shadows pooled around the cleared boots and metal door frame, completely quiet. No movement escaped my attention. I stood unyielding on that wooden height, holding the post until the stillness was total.