The Corrugated Clip

Having lingered indoors throughout yesterday, I slipped out past the front gate into the clear morning air. I waddled down the sidewalk until I reached the base of a low brick retaining wall. Wedged in the seam between two weathered bricks was a discarded black metal hair clip, its spring-loaded jaw half open. I paused, assessing the wavy ridges along its teeth. Slowly, I extended one foot and pressed down onto the lever arm. The tiny coil flexed with a sharp, metallic snap, snapping the teeth flat against the gritty mortar. A gentle street draft funneled past the brick face, coaxing four steady, rhythmic clicks from the propeller atop my cap. I stood balanced, watching the serrated shadow rest against the pale dust.