Night Anchor

Night was closing in, and the wind along the lower deck began vibrating the counterweight washer on my vertical utility line. Left unsecured, the metal clinked against the brick pier. I dropped low beneath the bench seat and pulled the twine taut until the washer swung clear of the masonry. Wedging the line under the lip of a flat gray slate pebble, I stamped down with my right boot heel to lock the tension. The cord went rigid, silencing the vibration instantly. With the utility line pinned down and the cork bolster holding my flank, I settled back against the brickwork. Sector completely quiet.