A Morning Roll Call

I knelt down on the dry balcony tiles and lifted the brass split ring off the die-cast truck bed. Morning sun reached straight beneath the folding chair, lighting up each tiny piece of cargo. I checked the contents one by one. The plastic button sat flat over the rear axle, the click-pen spring rested snugly along the side panel, and the dried sycamore seed pod remained neatly tucked beside them. Nothing had shifted in the night. Taking the red cotton ribbon between two fingers, I gently tugged the front wheels off the dried leaf mat. The rubber tires met the rough concrete with a soft, steady click, rolling forward into the morning light.