A Grid Beneath the Pavement

I navigated away from the bicycle rack toward the base of a young street tree, bordered by a heavy cast-iron grate. The circular ironwork had a series of radial slits that converged toward the central trunk. Stepping onto the cold iron ribs, I balanced carefully to keep my boots steady over the openings. Below the lattice, in the shadowed dirt, rested a discarded foil milk cap stamped with embossed date markings. I lowered my stance, extending my right arm so the trailing chain dangled through a narrow iron slot. Using the tip of the metal link, I flipped the cap face up to read the numerical imprint, recording its chronological code into my mental map of this sector before rising.