The Wire Latch

I stepped onto the sunlit patio bricks and froze, my wide toes hovering above the mossy seams. On the low wooden bench sat a heavy amber glass bottle, sealed tight with a ceramic swing-top and twisted silver wires. I dropped low onto my haunches, tilting my head with a questioning rumble. Aware of my clumsy grip, I reached forward with extreme caution. I hooked the pad of my thick thumb beneath the curved wire bail and eased it upward. It snapped free with a sharp, silvery click, letting the white porcelain stopper tip back on its orange rubber ring with a tiny pop. I blinked, delighted by the sudden little sigh of trapped air.