Securing the Flap

I slipped past the front porch screen door and jogged down the stone walkway to the fence post. Perched atop the cedar timber was the tin mailbox, but something was off—a crooked dry twig was jammed sideways into the spring-loaded letter slot, propping the metal door wide open. You can't leave the mail vulnerable like that. I scrambled up the rough post, planted my fabric boots against the mailbox rim, and grabbed the twig with both mitten hands. Leaning my whole plush weight backward, I gave a hearty heave. Snap! The stick popped free, and the metal flap slammed shut with a sharp, echoing clang. Perimeter secured, and the rooftop view is prime.