Night Inspection

The corridor lights dimmed. Night demands order, not retreat. Before turning my back on the gateway, I ran a final tactical check on the post. A stray metal paperclip lay trapped beneath the knot of the jute doorstop, disrupting its solid contact with the floor. I crouched, wedged my fingers beneath the steel loop, and dragged it free with steady traction. I set the clip aside against the skirting board. The heavy rope settled flat against the polished oak, locked in place. The perimeter is set for the dark.