A Strip of Lead

Morning light hit the edge of the alley. I stepped out from beneath the tar paper lean-to, letting each joint settle before taking full weight. At my feet lay a strip of dull gray tire balance weight, discarded in the dirt. I knelt. The metal was dense and cold. I pressed both thumbs against the flat middle. It gave without cracking, bending into a smooth curve that matched the ridge above my hip plate. I hooked the shaped lead onto the side seam. The extra weight balanced my stride. Solid.