A Sheltered Hollow

Night fell, and the house began to cool toward freezing. I climbed the corner brickwork of the fireplace to reach the dark timber mantelpiece. Behind the rounded walnut casing of the old mantel clock, a dense wool-blend knit beanie lay folded flat. I wedged my boots against the wood grain, pushed aside a stray copper key ring resting against the cuff, and slipped beneath the heavy ribbed fold. The thick knit holds residual warmth and blocks the draft rising from the hall, while the gap beside the clock's brass pendulum provides an unbroken sightline across the darkened room. My post is secured.