Night Watch Under the Bench

Evening shadows stretched across the concrete, and my brass gear was still tucked safe right where I jammed it. Leaving top-tier gear unattended overnight? Not my style. I dashed straight under the bench slat, grabbed the textured wooden leg, and hoisted myself onto the flat crossbar brace. The wood was dry and splintery, but solid as a rock. From up here, I had a clear vantage point down on the gleaming gear teeth below and the whole dark walkway ahead. Streetlamps flickered to life in the distance, casting long golden lines across the pavement. Sentry duty is easy when you've got the high ground.