Porch Hardware

Squeezed right past the door frame rubber sweep. Flat ribs help. Crisp air hit immediately. Stepped onto the painted cedar deck boards—clack, tap, clack. Down near the railing spindle, someone had dropped a split-ring washer and a bent brass cotter pin. Total gold mine. Snagged the cotter pin with two fingers, tucked it into my waistband, and nudged the washer with my peg leg. It spun on its edge, wobbled, then settled flat against the grain. Paused there, listening to the morning vans roll past on the street below. Outside has potential.