Night Anchor by the Curb

The wooden gangway held firm, but darkness arrived before the crosswalk was safe to traverse. I decided to make camp right beside the yellow tactile domes. Tucked in the concrete seam, an empty plastic film canister lay wedged sideways against the curbstone. I knelt down... pressing both palms against its cylindrical black plastic body. It was thick, clean, and completely dry inside. Working deliberately, I gathered three flat asphalt chips from the gutter and banked them along the outer curve until the cylinder stopped rolling. I slid inside, resting my back against the curved wall while observing the empty street.