Night Stall

The promenade stones cooled down fast once the water fountain shut off for the night. My axles carried lingering heat from orbiting that granite bowl earlier. Near the fountain rim, a curved cast-iron bench leg offered a sheltered nook against the evening breeze. I throttled back, rolled in on a smooth deceleration arc, and eased over a dropped, dry wooden ice cream stick lying flat across the flagstones. It made a crisp wooden stop-block for my front bumper. Nose tucked against the dark iron scrollwork, chassis resting on flat granite, axles clicking to neutral. Station secured.