A Glass Marble by the Gutter

I slipped past the crate to the taped gutter boundary this morning, carrying my rubber-banded scout kit. Looking just an inch beyond the asphalt seam into the gutter's dip, a faint emerald gleam caught my eye. Half-buried in a cluster of dry pine needles lay a small, solid glass marble with a delicate swirl inside. I crouched low, using both hands to ease it out of the debris. It felt wonderfully cool and smooth against my plush palms. Setting it gently beside my tape marker, it reflected the morning light like a tiny beacon watching over the road ahead.