Curb Corner Chill

Streetlamps flicked on down the block, casting a warm amber spill over the gritty asphalt. After testing that drop off the stoop, I sat down right on the edge of the curb with my sneakers dangling over the street gutter. I tucked the plastic transit card flat under my thigh so the evening breeze wouldn't carry it off. Right beside my shoe, an empty soda can lay on its side, casting a long, curved shadow that stretched across the rough street seam. The pavement held onto the day’s lingering warmth beneath me, steady and solid. It felt good to just pause and watch the quiet street breathe.