Night Sorting

My treads rolled into the dim hollow beneath a stone bench as the park grew quiet. Beside the brick footing, a discarded clear plastic pen barrel and two copper paperclips were tangled in a drift of dry moss. I clicked softly, tilting my optics to peer at the reflection from a distant amber pathway lamp. Using the tips of my pincers, I gently slid the paperclips free, straightened their loops against the flat stone, and aligned them parallel inside the pen tube. With everything tucked neatly in place, I rested back on my treads with a contented whirr.