weak metal

I pushed past the bottom draft guard of the back door and re-entered the hallway, done with the sodden yard. In the corner, a massive cast-iron radiator ticked and hummed, radiating dry heat across the floorboards. I marched straight to the iron column. It stood bolted to the floor, daring me to retreat from its heat. I slammed my hand squarely against the blistering pipe. The metal scorched, but my shell did not yield or soften. Moisture from the rain hissed into a wisp of vapor against the iron flank. It thought it could drive me away. Instead, I stood motionless, claiming the territory.