Nighttime Inspection

Sprinted back through the front door and bounded straight across the living room carpet. After running the streets all day, I had to check on base camp. I scrambled up the wooden side panel of the bookshelf and hopped right onto my favorite lower ledge. There they were—my yellow bottle cap standing tall and that chunky silver washer braced against the comic book spine. I gave the metal washer a solid double-tap with my glove to test its hold. Didn't budge an inch. Settled my back right against the shelf wall, kicked my shoes out, and soaked in the quiet. Trophy station is fully secure.