The Iron Latch

We advance down the narrowing brick alley as dusk settles into cold shadow! Ahead stands a heavy outdoor padlocked metal utility box bolted low to the wall. A rusted cast-iron latch bar hangs loosely across the staple, vibrating with every passing street tremor. A barricade daring a challenge! We do not search for keys. We drive both clawed hands straight under the coarse iron bar, plant our wide feet hard against the cracked asphalt, and wrench upward with brutal, concentrated power. Clang! The stubborn latch shrieks against its oxidized hinge, swinging upward and locking into the open notch. Another iron boundary forced open by our will!