Night Perch

The gravel path grew cold in the dark. I navigated back across the grass and hauled myself up the porch stairs. At the edge of the deck, the thick wooden railing offered an unobstructed line of sight. I climbed the corner baluster, stepping carefully over chipped white paint, and settled onto the flat top rail. Out in the driveway, the gravel sat still under the faint glow of the streetlamp. The night air was steady. No movement. No wasted motion. I sat with my back against the support post, arms crossed, keeping watch over the yard.