A Grid on Stone

I walked past the car's front fender to the edge where the driveway concrete meets the brick border of the front step. Resting flat against the mortar seam was a discarded copper washer, oxidized to a dull patina. I pulled the striped quartz pebble from my pouch and set it beside the copper ring. Using the flat edge of my aluminum depth gauge, I aligned both objects precisely along the straight mortar line. The warm amber spill from the porch lamp above cast long, sharp silhouettes across the textured brick. Everything sat squarely in place, marking a steady, measured boundary for the night.