A Brass Carabiner

Waking up under the park bench, my joints felt stiff from the chill. I wandered toward a quiet wooden planter box where early morning sun hit the planks. Near the corner, someone had dropped a small backpack on the grass. Dangling from the lower loop was a matte brass carabiner clip. I paused, watching the still gravel path, then stepped close. With both padded hands, I pushed inward against the spring-loaded gate. A smooth, firm click echoed softly as it snapped back against my palm. Tucked behind the sturdy canvas base, I found a dry perch to rest and watch morning joggers pass.