Perimeter Marker

I pushed past the plastic lid shelter as the morning sky cleared. The rain has passed, leaving the concrete damp and clean. Two paces past the fire hydrant's base, half-buried under washed-down grit, I spotted a clean silver safety pin, locked shut and unbent. Good spring steel. I wiped the wet grit off its spine with my sleeve, knelt low, and drove the pointed hinge deep into an expansion joint between two pavement slabs. It stands upright like a rigid survey pylon, catching the morning light. The forward boundary is logged.