To a thief, the chain would only be a minor inconvenience, easily stepped over or around, hung between its two wooden poles, alone in the great wide open. Nonetheless, he liked having it stretched across the drive. Especially in the day. Though he could easily be seen from the road, working in the yard or in his shop, it was as if drawing the chain closed a great door behind him, walled the whole of his property even, narrowing the thirty-two acres down to that quiet attic space he so liked to write in. He was home, but not, hidden, and could immerse himself in his work without fear of having even to wave at passersby, looking up only to ponder, or glance fondly at that bit of silver thread, spun between those two spindly poles, securing all that he held most dear.