one more part

I braced my boots against the furrowed timber as the boulevard lamps below reached full output. The ambient updraft had eased, settling the maple samara firmly against its resin anchor. Kneeling beside the pinned paper chart, I extended my right index gauntlet to verify the optical channel. The streetlamp's golden beam refracted cleanly through the green glass shard, projecting a steady emerald circle precisely onto the center intersection marker. I planted both palms flat against the coarse bark, feeling the distant mechanical rhythm of the boulevard fade into night silence. The station is secure.