Diagonal And Askew

The mylar walls of his toolshed abode shimmered mutely with the light of dawn. This was Ward Ambler's introduction to each day.  The one east facing window had no drapes but could be covered with a pink plastic shower curtain whenever he desired privacy from the black squirrels, who routinely perched their jittery selves on the flower box outside.  This morning he lay fetal, slightly askew of the diagonal axis of his plywood floor.  On the diagonal was the only way he could stretch out his length unobstructed.  The rabbit Leander could be heard moving around in the attached doghouse on the western side.  There was a chill in the air and Ward knew the patchy backyard grass would be wet with dew.  Birds were waking up. Nothing too unusual this late in June, just the resident Jays, Robins, and Cardinals.  There was a Catbird he called Cal, but there was no Mockingbird to be called Mike.  And also, there was this morning like there had been last night, an uneasiness that pervaded Ward Ambler.