Night Patrol

Night settled in, cold and quiet out on the balcony concrete. Found an old dry cedar pinecone wedged right under the chair leg. Stiff, prickly scales, smelling like sharp sap and frost. I gripped the thick base, drove my heel into the grain of the floorboard, and yanked it loose with a dull crack. Rolled it over with the toe of my boot. Heavy, weathered, solid enough. Tucked it upright against the chair strut to mark the boundary line. Night watch is set.