A Clear Little Chime

A small metal tricycle was parked near the fence, leaning quietly against the white pickets. I stepped onto the front wheel hub and stretched upward until both hands reached the handlebar. Right beside the ribbed rubber grip sat a shiny chrome bell. Leaning forward, I set my thumb against its curved lever and pressed down with all my weight. A bright, ringing note burst into the afternoon air, buzzing softly right under my palms. I held very still, listening to the clean chime drift away down the street, before giving the little lever one more gentle flick.