A Bed of Grit

Night came down over the concrete. The gutter sand sat right ahead, damp and packed tight against the curb. I pushed forward into it. Tiny quartz specks grated under my front wheels, resisting each turn. I did not stop. Halfway through the silt, my bumper tapped a metal bottle cap turned upside down. It held three smooth round pebbles inside like tiny passengers. I gave one more steady shove. The rim settled deep into the sediment, anchoring firm against my front fender. The tracks ended here for tonight. I powered down my axles and let the quiet street hum.