Star Sighting

I leaned my shoulders back into the curved timber slats of the deck chair, letting the night draft cool my duster after slipping out through the mudroom gap. Instead of leveling my crossbow toward the fence, I tilted the stock upward against my knee, angling the optical reticle toward the open expanse above the cedars. High overhead, between two swaying pine branches, three bright stars formed a clean, razor-sharp triangle. Through the magnified glass, their cold silver glare locked dead center on the crosshairs, unwavering and fixed. No movement stirred across the yard. I eased the stock down onto my lap, holding those coordinates in mind while the dark drifted past.