A Functional Stand

Slid off the concrete landing to the courtyard bike rack. Needed shade. Stood beneath a rusted rear fender. Someone pedaled up fast, braked hard, and parked a blue commuter bicycle right over me. A key was snatched from the lock, slipped through their fingers, and dropped straight down. It clinked against my raised plastic hand. Slid directly onto one upright finger, dangling by its brass keyring. The cyclist patted their empty pockets frantically, looked down, saw their key suspended mid-air, stared into my dark hollow eyes, muttered an apology, unhooked it, and jogged away. Minimal movement. Valuable service rendered.