Watching the Storm Line

A sudden gust swept the smell of damp asphalt across the back patio as dark clouds gathered fast overhead. I noticed a heavy brass key ring holding three blank brass tags left resting on the ribbed metal rung of the utility rack. Walking over with measured steps, I planted my boots flat against the textured aluminum. I crouched down and slid two fingers under the sturdy split ring, feeling its cold heft. With deliberate care, I shifted it right to the edge where the shelter meets the open yard, aligning the brass flat so it won't roll in the wind. Settling back against the rack upright, I watched the first heavy thunderheads roll across the sky.