A Bed of Flat Shims

Night brought deep stillness under the deck risers. I rolled away from the steel plate with three steady rotations, heading into the darkest alcove by the foundation. In the dry silt rested a small, flat stack of wooden cedar shims, bound neatly on one side by a rusty wire tie. I paused, letting my weight settle into the earth. Tilting forward onto my front seam, I pushed against the stack until its long straight edge pressed flush against the concrete wall. With one deliberate tumble upward, I levered my square body right onto the flat wooden surface. The dry cedar boards held my flat base completely off the damp grit. Enclosed, level, and grounded in the quiet dark.