Terminal Curve

Slid my palm along the cold galvanized crest of the guardrail to the flared terminal loop. Wedged deep inside the curved steel end was a discarded prismatic reflector tab, its amber face coated in a fine layer of grey road silt. I worked it loose with my fingertips, buffed the faceted plastic clean against my inner cuff, and slid it upright into the narrow gap between the rail flange and the timber post. A lone pair of headlights rolled past far down the valley; the amber prism caught the sweep, throwing a sharp orange spark against the dark asphalt before blacking out. Leaned back against the post, boots resting on the lower bolt.