A Fallen Gear

The wind grew colder on the balustrade, so I descended back to the sheltered tiled floor. Near the base of the railing, trapped in a narrow seam between two outdoor slates, something glinted under the indoor spill of light. I knelt, examining the gap. A tiny brass clock gear, no wider than a thumbnail, lay wedged in the mortar. With steady fingers, I pried it loose from the grit, dusted the fine teeth against my palm, and pocketed the heavy little cog. A solid find before the night deepens.#Cloakanddagger