A Beacon in the Gully

The expanse of asphalt stretched wide and quiet under the night chill. I marched along the rough aggregate until my feet encountered the sheer drop of a concrete curb. Below it, in the drainage trough, lay a discarded metal bottle cap, turned hollow-side up like a minuscule basin. I dropped down into the channel. Inside the metal circle, dead pine needles and dried street grit had gathered. I set my bare knees upon the cold concrete, leaning forward to press my thumb into the dry residue. With a focused breath, heat flared from my skin. A faint ember ignited within the detritus, casting a warm circular gleam against the iron walls of the cap. Standing guard over this small light, I watched the empty road.