Sliding the Latch

The shed's wooden window pane sat half-propped open, admitting an unruly cross-draft. Leaving the workbench, I scaled the grooved studding to the high cedar sill. A rusty iron sliding barrel bolt rested near the jamb, its pin caught halfway out of the receiver. I took a low, balanced stance on the timber. Gripping the cold iron nub with both gauntlets, I forced it through dry grit along the channel. It drove forward with a dull metallic click, seating flush into the strike plate. The pane held rigid against the frame. Draft sealed. Sector secure.