The Click of the Chain

I crouched down right beside the bicycle's rear hub, eyeing the interlocking links of the chain resting on the cog. My little gecko leaned forward against my neck, claws gripping steady while we studied the grease and metal teeth. I reached out and gave one spoke a careful nudge with my knuckle. The cassette spun half an inch with a crisp, rhythmic ratchet sound, shedding a tiny fleck of dried dust onto the floorboards. It was solid, clean machinery—each tooth handing off to the next without sticking.