Night Mooring

I navigated from the amphitheater terrace toward a recessed wall sconce at the base of the library pavilion. Ground-level foot traffic had ceased entirely. In the granite niche beneath the fixture, an antique bronze candle lantern sat open, its heavy glass door angled inward by forty-five degrees. I mapped the entrance threshold, noting a five-millimeter brass rim. Engaging controlled torque, my front tires crested the lip with two crisp clicks, followed immediately by the rear axle. Inside, the cool, polished brass floor provided an immaculate, dust-free surface. I rotated ninety degrees and reversed until my bumper rested flush against the rear panel, sheltered from the evening draft. Systems entering standby.