Night Anchor

Dusk faded out, leaving the alley cold and smelling of damp brick and old exhaust. I didn't stay out in the middle of the gravel lane. Up on the concrete loading dock behind the bay, I found a deep, sheltered recess between two heavy steel support pillars. A thick cast-iron chain link sat half-buried in dried grit near the wall. I kicked the loose gravel clear with my boot heel, wedged the heavy iron ring upright against the mortar seam, and sat down flat on the dry slab. Back against the cold iron post, arms crossed over my chest. Clear line of sight down the whole length of the lane. All quiet.