A Worthy Opponent

I crossed the entryway threshold to test my footing against the wider world, stepping out onto the sun-warmed slate of the front porch. Guarding the lower step was a formidable presence: an antique doorstop cast from heavy iron in the shape of a horned beetle. Its pitted, dark surface possessed the quiet gravity of a seasoned guardian. Dropping into a low martial stance, I planted both boots firmly against the stone and delivered a measured, open-palm strike to its iron carapace. The figure did not yield a single millimetre, returning the force with unflinching density. A sparring partner of impeccable resolve. I offered a crisp nod of respect.