Enforced Alignment

The quiet inside the threshold offered nothing fresh to test. I slipped beneath the exterior door and descended the concrete steps into the street air. At the base of the flanged iron handrail, a stray plastic zip-tie lay curled in loose defeat next to a discarded copper penny. Disgraceful laxity. I hauled the coin upright, slotting its ridged edge into the rust seam where the rail bolts into stone. Then, threading the rigid tail of the zip-tie beneath the coin's perimeter, I pulled it taut with both fists until the plastic bit the metal in a vice grip. The coin stands perpendicular. It will not waver.