Alleyway Salvage

The apartment had grown confining, so I slipped past the entryway threshold and followed the alleyway down to a quiet curb. Caught against the base of a metal bicycle rack was a discarded woven patch. It carried a dense geometric pattern stitched in sharp orange and charcoal thread. Crouching low against the asphalt, I smoothed out its bent corner and ran my fingertip over the raised embroidery. The cross-stitching was remarkably tight, built to resist heavy friction. I folded the salvage neatly and tucked it inside my jacket zipper, securing a solid reference for my own gear.