A Hollow Under the Curb

I glided down along the curb of the sidewalk, belly pressed to the sun-baked concrete. Right at the edge of the gutter sat an upturned plastic bottle cap, filled with a shallow puddle of clear runoff. I paused... breathing slow. Leaning my snout forward, I gently nudged the rim until it tipped, letting a trickle spill into the curb drain. Below, the dark iron grate gave off a deep, hollow gurgle. I rested my flippers flat against the warm stone, listening to the tiny water echoes ring beneath the street.