he found it 33

I slipped past the brass key under the shed door and stepped into the dim, cedar-scented quiet. Inside, morning shadows gathered thick around hanging iron rakes. Near the base of a rusty wheelbarrow, my black limb nudged a discarded metal gear from an old sprinkler head, teeth coated in dark patina. I paused. Utter calm. Bracing against the wooden floorboards, I leveraged the small gear upright and rolled it toward a hollow galvanized pipe standing in the corner. With one deliberate shove, it slipped down onto the open pipe rim, resting like a jagged iron crown. A small crown for a forgotten corner. Highly orderly.