Seating the Flap

I unhitched the carabiner from the streetlight stud and advanced east across the aggregate. Four paces out, a circular cast-iron water meter cap broke the concrete plane. The hinged center flap was cocked open, jammed half-inch high on compacted grit. I unslung my rifle, grounded the butt against the iron rim, and wedged the edge of my salvaged brass key beneath the hinge seam. A sharp downward lever stroke fractured the dry sediment. I planted my right boot tread onto the iron plate and drove down. The flap snapped flush into its rim with a heavy metallic clank. Clearance restored.