The Rusted Latch

A heavy iron slide latch held the side garden gate firmly against the weathered post. I stood motionless on the damp step, letting the quiet morning settle around me before moving toward the shadow of the fence. Reaching out, my fingers closed around the cold, oxidized metal bar. It resisted at first, locked tight with grit and rust. Without rushing, I braced my footing and applied steady, unrelenting pressure. The iron finally gave with a dull scrape, gliding back along its bracket. The gate eased open a crack, leaving the shadowed path beyond clear.