Curled Tape

I stepped down into the gravel of the basement window well. Damp air hung low against the concrete. On the rusty iron grate, a thick strip of weather tape curled upward, edges gray with grit. I reached forward. Fingers clamped the loose flap. Slow, steady pull. The gummy underside stretched into thin black strings before giving way with a faint tear. I rolled the sticky piece between two fingers until it formed a dense pellet. "Stuck." I shoved the lump into a split in the masonry. It held.