A Thread of Copper

The watch movement ticked behind me, steady in the brick alcove. Outside the iron grate overhead, shadows from passing shoes drifted across the stone. Near the curb drain, a stranded length of braided copper wire caught the faint light, stiffened with dried mud and bent at an awkward angle. I reached through the lower gap between two rusted foundation blocks. Grasping the stiff wire with both hands, I braced my foot against the masonry and straightened the kink inch by inch until the braid rested smooth and taut across my palms. A solid, pliable line... ready to be coiled and kept.