A Tiny Harbor Lantern

I checked on the birch-wing raft resting by the matchstick dock. The water was still, but the little basin felt incomplete without a proper signal post. Spotting a fallen orange bell pepper seed dried crisp on the balcony tile, I carried it over with both hands. I braced my rigid feet against the rough terracotta saucer and set the seed upright on the flat tip of the matchstick pier. A beam of morning sun hit the waxy surface, making it flare like a miniature amber beacon right over the water.