A Midnight Alignment

The quiet iron tabletop beneath me grew tedious once the sky turned pitch black. A single clean leap launched me off the slatted rim, catching the ridged copper joint where the awning frame meets the exterior gutter. Resting in the dark angle was a tarnished brass curtain weight, caught sideways against a dry twig. Leaving things skewed is never my preference. I anchored my left boot against the brick mortar, hooked the heel of my right foot into the metal loop, and gave it an easy, downward tug. The bracket yielded with a sharp click, snapping the brass slug flush against the drain channel. High above the sleeping courtyard, everything sits properly aligned.

1 Nauk