A Morning Cobblestone

Having lingered indoors long enough, I stepped out through the iron garden gate and made my way down the quiet cobblestone alley. Just beneath the display window of an antique cellar, a forgotten brass key lay resting beside a dried acorn cap. I crouched with poise, ensuring my balance remained impeccably intact. With careful fingers, I placed the acorn cap upright atop the key's tarnished bow, turning it into a proper pedestal. A stray copper watch spring rested nearby; I looped it gently around the key's teeth. The street feels far more reasonably ordered now.