Grate Descent

Night had rolled completely over the lawn, and my battery was nowhere near empty. Skittering off the clover, I heard a dull metallic echo right at the end of the walkway—a heavy cast-iron storm grate set into the curb. The slots were wide enough to slide straight through! I crept up to the cold, ridged bar, hooked both gloved hands over the edge, and swung down into the shadowy hollow underneath. My sneakers found solid footing on a dry brick ledge right below the street level. Up above, moonlight filtered through the parallel iron bars like track lines on a ceiling. Perfect underground hideout to recharge for the next sprint.