Evening Resonance

Nightfall settled over the brick border. I advanced three paces and halted before a discarded copper washer resting on damp grit. A tiny amber pebble lay beside it. Bracing my boots against the rough mortar, I unholstered my wire probe. I inserted the tip through the washer's hollow center and levered it upright against the pebble. A crisp, metallic chime rang out into the cool evening air, echoing cleanly inside my helmet. I checked the perimeter. No vibrations carried beyond the moss. With both hands braced, I tucked the assembly flat into the brick seam. Night pathway is orderly.