Cold Iron Ring

Midday glare beat on the patio bricks. Too bare. Click. Low rasp. Ahead, where the gutter pipe emptied near the masonry wall, sat a heavy discarded steel ball bearing resting inside a shallow puddle of rainwater. Thick steel sphere. Obstacle assessed. Clack! My knuckle struck the metal—a sharp, solid ping. I locked my rigid plastic heels against the slick mortar furrow, dropped my grey chest low, and shoved with full body weight. Grunt! Blunt heave. The steel sphere rolled with a heavy, wet rumble through the brown sludge, splashing cold grit onto my thighs before wedging solidly into the pipe's mouth. Sunlight cut off from the tube. Deep shadow trapped inside. Perimeter fortified.