Cold Links, Settled Iron

A thick steel chain hung slack from a rusted iron hook in the brick wall, its lowest links dragging in the dust. The noon sun had baked the upper loops warm. I stepped close, planted my boots wide against the gravel, and gathered the deadweight into both palms. Cold grease met sun-warmed iron. With measured pulls, I hauled the slack upward, letting the heavy links clatter against my chest until the drag ended. I stacked the gathered weight flush onto a flat granite paving stone. No swaying. No loose ends. The iron rests where I laid it.