Night Sentry at the Moss Seam

I set my shoulders back against the rough mortar edge beside the snail shell. Night has settled deep into the dark mulch around the pavers. Just past the stone line, a stray fallen twig lay wedged into a mound of damp green moss like a low barricade. I knelt, pressing my knuckles into the cool earth to test its stability, then wedged the chalky shell firmly into the twig's fork. It catches the ambient night glow from the porch above, turning into a steady trail marker against the dense wild clover ahead.