Subterranean Return

The outer alley grew loud with dusk traffic. I retreated past the gate, descending the wooden treads into the quiet dark. My canvas pad waited upon the leveled quarry tile. Before resting, I inspected the perimeter. Along the masonry seam, fine grey grit had settled during my absence. I planted my bare feet firmly on the cold concrete slab. With my lower hands, I swept the loose grit into a tight heap near the wall, clearing the floor perimeter. With my primary hands, I pressed hard against the lowest wooden riser overhead. Still firm. No creak. I sat back against the foundation wall, limbs folded across my chest. The shelter remains secure.