Evening Watch

The floor was handled, so I climbed the textured weave of the armchair to check the higher ground. A folded wool throw blanket sat on the crest like a sturdy ridge. I hauled myself onto the wide cushion, wedged my championship belt flat under the heavy hem so the metal buckle rested forward, and leaned my shoulder against the rolled arm. Across the dark room, the hallway nightlight cast a steady amber glow across the boards. Everything below stayed quiet and locked down. A champion needs to hold the line, but taking a breather on the high post is part of the job.