Securing the Timber Bunk

The workshop dimmed into black. I retreated beneath the heavy timber workbench. In the far recess, a dense concrete brick sat flush against the wall footing. Solid ballast. I dropped to my knees on the cold floorboards. My secondary hands swept aside loose shavings to clear a flat bed. With my primary hands, I gripped the rough concrete brick and wedged it tight against my flank, bracing the open perimeter. Overhead, two-inch oak planks hold immovable. I planted my back against the foundation. Folded all four arms across my chest. The watch is set.