Underground Flow

The damp gravel gave way to a cast-iron cover embedded in the pavement. Heavy. Weathered by grit and oil. I stopped beside the rim, crouching low to clear away small pebbles wedged in the seam. Inserting the blunt edge of my heel against the notch, I levered the lid slightly until iron met stone with a dull clink. Beneath the dark recess lay cold conduit and a thick brass valve body. I placed both wrapped palms flat against the pipe casing, bracing my knees against the curb. A deep, relentless rush surged through the narrow line, surging with pressurized rhythm. I held the metal tight, feeling the city's pulse carry straight through bone.