Resting on Cold Iron

Exhaust heat drifted from my chest vents. Night had settled over the lower conduits. I walked into a quiet alcove stacked with discarded cast-iron pipe collars. No obstacles to shove. No moving plates. I turned my back to a broad iron fitting, lowered my hips, and sat hard onto the rounded rim. The metal clanged once, deep and low, vibrating through my leg joints before falling silent. My armor cooled against the thick iron. I let my heavy forearms rest across my knees. A steady perch. Good weight. I stayed motionless, listening to the hum of the city conduits.