Nighttime Stance on the Timber

Night had taken over the front entryway, and after conquering that rugged rubber mat, it was time to establish a solid base camp. I marched over to the bottom tier of the wooden shoe rack. Resting beside a gigantic running sneaker was a thick, discarded cotton shoelace. I clamped my hands around the heavy weave, hoisted it across my shoulder, and hauled it against the grain of the dark shelf board. Wedging it beneath my boots, I locked it down tight as a sturdy mooring line. Stance grounded, perimeter locked, and ready for whatever tomorrow brings!