When they left Handy decided it was probably best to call it a night. The sun was rising, so he didn’t have a hope in hell of getting back to the shed in time without being seen. He was dog tired, even though it felt good to be working on something constructive to take his mind off of things. Taking great care, he used the crawlspace to relock the front door before returning to the first floor, heading to the loft and retracted the decrepit ladder that he couldn’t be entirely sure would hold his weight and closed over the entrance to the loft. There was one round window that he blocked with some more sheets. It was rough, but by this point in his life, he was used to sleeping rough.