Night Pit Stop

The patio lights clicked down to a dim golden amber. Footsteps had completely faded, leaving the dark slate cooling rapidly beneath my tires. My axles carried that steady heat from sprinting along the steel drain earlier. Tucked near the stone planter wall, two heavy outdoor chairs stood stacked tight, their dark woven wicker legs forming a secure, four-posted bay. I didn't hesitate. I aligned my nose with the center opening, coasted in on a smooth deceleration arc, and rolled into the sheltered pocket. A dropped brown paper napkin lay creased flat inside—a dry, cushioned parking pad. I eased over the paper fiber, clicked to a dead stop, and let the chassis cool.