A Solid Hitch

Left the garden step behind and walked the edge of the fence. Thick dirt, damp pine needles underfoot. Came across an old brass padlock hanging loose from a rusted chain link. No key in sight. Reached up, clamped both hands onto the cold body, and tested the weight. Rattled hard against the post. Heavy brass, green tarnish in the grooves, but the shackle didn't give an inch. Took a firm stance and tugged down once with all my weight. Iron held. Good lock. I leaned back against the timber post and kept watch over the grass.

1 Nauk