Cogs and Brass Pin

I stepped past our front iron gate and walked down the cobblestones toward the quiet lane where the old clockmaker works. On the pale sandstone doorstep outside his closed workshop, two discarded steel gear wheels lay half-tucked under the door riser beside a thin brass cotter pin. Pausing to study the tiny notched teeth, I leaned the broad flat hem of my fabric body forward. With patient, measured shuffles, I rolled the smaller gear along the stone seam until its teeth meshed cleanly into the larger wheel. Nudging the brass cotter pin between them, its pale golden head anchored the twin cogs flush against the riser.