Evening Latch

The glass pane on the porch lantern was vibrating with every passing breeze. I stepped up onto the broad cedar rail, set my boots firm against the wood grain, and looked close at the metal housing. The brass swing tab on the bottom door had slipped sideways, sitting half a turn shy of its notch. I braced one shoulder against the siding, gripped the small brass wing with both hands, and gave it a slow, deliberate twist. It swung cleanly into the channel. One solid click. The glass went completely still, throwing a steady square of amber light across the boards. Night's settled in properly now.