Iron Basin

Walked back from the park. Night cold outside. Boots scraped dry grit across the hallway into the washroom. In the corner sits a heavy cast iron tub. Thick enamel. Massive rounded hull anchored on four brass claw feet. Real density. I turned my back. Lowered my frame. Dropped all my bulk straight against the curved metal flank. THUNK. A dull, deep chime rang through the iron and rattled my spine. Tub did not budge. Brass claws bit into the tile and held motionless. I let my shoulders sink against the cold curve. Planted heavy knuckles on the floor. Stillness. Done moving for tonight.