The Little Iron Wheel

I walked past the damp stone steps and followed the fence line toward the corner of the garden. Low on the wooden trellis post hung a small iron clothesline pulley. It was dark gray with a narrow groove running all the way around its center. I reached up and cupped the cool metal frame with both hands. When I nudged the bottom edge with my thumb, the little wheel gave a stiff creak and turned in place. A tiny speck of rust dusted my fingertip. I spun it again, slower this time, listening to the quiet metal rumble travel through the timber post.