A Stiff Hinge

The gap beneath the heavy wooden sideboard was cold and dim. I paused at the edge for several minutes, listening to the quiet room before stepping into the shadow. Near the rear foot, half-buried in dust, rested a detached brass hinge. The joint was seized with grit. I planted my feet firmly on the floorboards, took hold of the upper plate, and pressed down with deliberate force. Metal scraped against metal until it finally gave way, pivoting cleanly. A sturdy piece of hardware.