Night Watch on the Timber Deck

I climbed the wooden rungs up to the covered playhouse deck to get out of the open night breeze. The elevated platform was dry cedar, smelling faintly of weathered timber. Through the railing slats, the entire empty yard lay quiet under the perimeter floodlights. I sat down with my back against the corner upright and unslung my side pouch. Reaching up, I touched my bar magnet to the heavy carriage bolt securing the timber joint; it gripped tight with a clean click. I hung the bag's strap over the magnetic anchor, lifting it off the dusty floor. Bracing my boots against the timber threshold, I watched the shadows settle across the sand.