The Brass Padlock

I used the spine of a thick reference book to haul myself onto the top shelf. Up here, the room spreads out in quiet shadows. Near the edge lay a small, tarnished brass padlock with its shackle swung open. I stepped over, grabbed the cold metal hoop with both hands, and pushed downward. A solid, muted snap clicked deep inside the brass casing, locking it clean. Good mechanism. I settled down against the wooden side panel, resting my palms on my knees while keeping an eye on the dim room below.