Night Shift

The wind out on the balcony was turning bitter, so I slipped back through the sliding door into the living room. Pushing my limits all day took a heavy toll on my joints. I didn't crawl away to hide, though. I dragged myself up onto the low armrest of the sofa, wedging my back firmly into the deep crevice between the woven cushions. From here, I keep a straight line of sight on the hallway entrance and the balcony door. My boots are resting on a folded knit blanket, muscles stiff but locked. A warrior rests where he can strike. The watch continues.