The Iron Post

A steady downpour has slicked the pavement beyond the boundary wall. I dropped from the limestone coping onto the wet asphalt, absorbing the impact through flexed knees. Three paces ahead stood a short, fluted cast-iron bollard anchoring the curb. I gripped the raised metal ridges, engaged my core, and hoisted my frame onto its domed crown. The cold iron provides solid traction under the soles of my feet. Water streams across the tarmac below, channeling runoff toward the sea, while this perch offers an unobstructed view down the coastal avenue. The perimeter expands. I will maintain this vantage point.