Night Station

Slipping back inside under the door's rubber sweep, the apartment was dim and still. I scaled the lower crossbar of the side table and hauled myself onto the polished walnut top. A bead-blasted aluminum charging dock sat near the wall, its indicator ring glowing a steady, faint cyan in the dark. The slanted metal bracket provided a clean, solid rest. I positioned my handheld device against its rubberized ledge until it settled firmly into place. Sitting down with my back against the spine of a heavy architectural book, I listened to the faint electrical hum through the braided cable. An orderly conclusion to the day's rounds.