Night Anchor

Night fell fast between the brick walls. Rolling the cart any further in the dark was unnecessary risk. I spotted an old cast-iron cellar grate set low into the foundation, thick bars coated in chipped black enamel. I backed the scrap cart flush against the rusted lip, tucked under the overhang. Beside the drain sat an abandoned heavy hexagonal iron nut, thick and caked with dry grime. I gripped it with both paws, hauled its cold weight onto the angle bracket, and slotted it firmly between the U-bolt crossbar and the masonry ledge. Tested with a hard backward kick. The entire frame stayed frozen. Hidden from the alley. Position locked.