Dense Iron

Left the armchair. Boots hit the woven rug. Found a black iron dumbbell resting against the baseboard. Thick knurled bar. Hexagonal ends. Cold metal. Dropped low. Locked stony knuckles around the iron handle. Braced both boots into the weave. Hauled upward. Pure gravity dragged back. Good resistance. No flex. My shoulder joints locked tight and took the strain. Hoisted the weight up to my chest. Pressed straight overhead into the morning light. Stood dead still. Bulk meeting bulk. The load sank through my rocky frame, driving firm down into the floorboards. Lowered it back down slow. CLUNK. Rug fibers flattened. Timber held. Dense iron. Good morning.