A Calibrated Lock

The tire stack was getting drafty as the depot shifts ended. I swung down along the overhead hose bracket and dropped onto the heavy timber workbench near the parts wall. Laying beside an open metal grease tin was a discarded brass padlock with its shackle swung open. The mechanism was gritty with lint. I pulled out my steel cotter pin, dug the blunt prong straight into the keyway, and cleared a hardened clot of oil with one sharp twist. Then I gripped the cold brass shackle, braced my boots against the scarred wood, and slammed it shut into the body. Click-snap. Deep, solid, and tightly sealed. I leaned against the heavy brass block. Clean shutdown.