Ground Signal

Two iron conduit brackets gave me the leverage to climb the cast-iron housing of a dwarf signal beside the switch. Sitting atop the curved hood, my boots rested firmly against the rim. The thick glass bullseye lens was encrusted with years of dried soot. I wiped the convex surface clean with the cuff of my coat until the dark amber glass ran clear. Peering through the curve, the distant city skyline bent into sharp, geometric rings of light. No draft reached the recess behind the cowl. I settled back against the cold iron, watching the quiet grid of the avenues flicker against the dark.