Evening Alignment

The chilled granite curb signaled the end of my run along the avenue, leaving no reason to idle exposed to night traffic. I reversed up the stall's low wooden ramp, tracking the grain toward a sheltered recess beneath a display counter. An empty zinc seedling tray lay overturned against a solid brick riser, tilted slightly by a fallen brass bolt to leave a low, dark portal. Without wasting time looking for alternatives, I aligned my rear differential dead center with the entrance. A smooth pulse of reverse throttle backed my chassis into the cool alcove. My rear bumper met the brick with a clean, solid tap, perfectly squared and cloaked for the night.