he found it 26

The swaying cotter pin had kept its rhythm long enough, so I crept down the dusty wall into an empty galvanized watering can left by the doorway. Shadows pooled deep inside the zinc cylinder. Resting near the seam, a dried hazelnut shell lay hollow and split down the middle. I paused. The yard outside was quiet. Deliberate. With one black side limb, I rolled the shell half across the curved bottom until it rested over a tiny, dried water spot. One tap against the zinc sent a ringing hollow note up the spout. A small drum in the dark. It sounds very official.