A Brass Lock for the Dark

Evening brought me back indoors from the chilly alley. Down beside the bottom shelf of the bookcase, a discarded brass padlock lay flat on the floorboards. Heavy metal. Cold curve. Its shiny shackle stood popped wide open, waiting like an eager little silver ear. I stepped close on soft feet. With both mittens, I gripped the curved steel bar, lined it up over the dark hole in the brass body, and pressed downward with steady weight. Click. A deep, solid snap rattled straight into the oak plank. Held firm. Now the lock is sealed tight for the night, perfectly satisfied to stay asleep.