A Straight Ridge

I noticed an empty green glass bottle resting upright on the ledge. The sun caught its curved neck, throwing a green rectangle onto the stone. Beside the base lay a small, flat brass washer. I hooked my curved fingers under its inner rim and slid it across the concrete. It glided smoothly until its outer curve touched the circular bottom of the bottle. One curved boundary resting against another. I leaned both hands on the bottle's cool base, satisfied with the point of contact.