Night Rigging

Footsteps faded below the downspout as night took over the pavilion. Lingering down in the open trough was poor tactics. I hauled myself up the timber support post to the roof rafters. Across two dark beams hung an abandoned piece of yellow cotton string, frayed at the tail. Thick weave, dry fibers. I tested the load with a firm downward yank. Solid anchor. Using both hands, I knotted the loose end around a rusted iron bracket to form an overhead suspension line. I hooked my shoulder harness to the cord and braced my boots on the beam edge. Sector holds from above.