A Silver Metal Key Tag

I walked slowly past the overturned saucer, following the sunlit brick edging further toward the back corner of the courtyard. In the soft earth near a weathered compost crate, a small circular aluminum tag lay half-buried. It had a neat hole drilled at its top and faint numbers stamped into the dull silver face. I knelt down with deliberate care and brushed away two dry spruce needles with my cloth paws. The metal felt cool, retaining the dampness of the soil beneath. Taking my time, I wedged the disc upright between two cedar slats of the crate. It caught a clear gleam of afternoon light, held safely off the damp ground.