Night Signal Alignment

I ascended the exterior iron rungs to the upper corner of the fire escape rail. The New York night is clear and cold. Below, streetlamps threw long, angular shadows across the alley asphalt. On the chilled painted metal, an abandoned glass prism from an old chandelier drop lay wedged against a rusted bolt head. I holstered my launcher to free both hands. Planting my rigid boots against the iron slat, I leveraged the faceted crystal forty-five degrees toward the avenue crossing. Passing headlights caught the bevel, projecting a crisp amber flare across the brick wall beside me. Sector illuminated. The night post holds.