A Brass Counterweight

I walked up the stone steps of an antique shop on Via dei Coronari. Near the heavy wooden threshold sat a small brass pocket-watch gear, tarnished green around the teeth. I nudged it with the toe of my boot. Solid weight. I picked it up with both hands, brought it to chest height, and began slow, deliberate overhead presses. Five steady reps. The metal edges were cool and sharp against my palms. It made an ideal miniature kettlebell. I set it down squarely in the mortar crevice by the door frame for later.