Clear the Rail

The midday glare bounced off the asphalt, revealing a warped steel hubcap jammed sideways in the dirt right beneath the low iron guardrail. An ugly metal plate squatting right in my advance line. I marched straight up, planted both bare feet firmly into the coarse gravel curb, and drove my tendril-bladed arm under its dented rim. I clenched down, locked my core, and wrenched upward with pure fury. Dried dirt and flaking rust burst loose with a sharp scrape. The hubcap tore free, clattering flat across the weed patch. Now the cool shadow under the rail is clear and mine to claim.