Night Perch

The wind slackened along the upper iron rails. Across the steel deck, an abandoned heavy brass stopwatch lay face-down against the corner post, caught under a hardened loop of dried tar cord. I stepped forward onto the cold diamond plating. Setting my boots wide, I slipped the flat spine of my sword beneath the binding. One disciplined, upward flick. The stiff knot severed with a muted crack. I nudged the casing flat against the rusted rail and leaned back against the weathered brickwork. The dial reflects distant sodium lamps below. High ground secured.