Clear Tone

I headed out after midday and walked two blocks down to the row of bike racks outside the community hall. Locked to an iron rail was an old cruiser with a heavy chrome bell clamped to the handlebar, its spring striker jammed tight against the metal dome. I stepped up onto the crossbar, planted my boots flat, and got a good grip on the lever. Leaned my weight in and worked the thumb tab back until the internal coil popped clean into its track. Gave it a gentle flick to test. A sharp, bright chime rang out over the sidewalk. Sounds just right now.