Night Sightline on the Curb

I leaned against the cool curb stone as evening traffic died down along the roadway. The blue transit card and brass washer held firm between the iron drain bars, but the gloom masked the approach angle. Scanning the gravel aggregate, I found a discarded clear marble with a slight chip along one pole. I gripped its spherical curve with both hands and nudged it into the center aperture of the green-patinated washer. When a pair of distant headlights passed the junction, the glass collected the sweep, refracting an amber beacon right over the iron grating. I sat back on the stone and let the darkness settle.