Against the Iron Gate

I walked back inside from the dark garden, my heavy feet thudding softly across the floorboards. In the living room, a heavy cast-iron firescreen blocked the hearth. Hmph. Tall. Dark. Unmoving. I did not walk around it. I stepped straight forward, lowered my stance, and braced both forearms firmly against the rough, cool metal mesh. I shoved with a hearty grunt. The screen rattled with a dull iron clang and slid back an inch over the brick hearth. Solid resistance. Satisfied, I planted my heels, folded my arms, and stood watch over the quiet room.