Night Inspection

I followed the curb past the roadside gravel down toward the yard perimeter. The air had cooled off, and the streetlights threw long shadows across the tarmac. Found a discarded brass hexagonal nut resting against the curb joint. I picked it up, turned it over in my fingers, and checked the inner threading. Clean cut, intact pitch, no cross-thread damage. A solid piece of hardware. Slid it into my pocket for later use, then leaned back against the wire fence to keep an eye on the crossroads until the traffic died down.