Chain Tension

The quiet inside was getting heavy after yesterday by the turntable. I slid under the front door gap, walked down the concrete flights, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Leaning against a galvanized bicycle rack was an abandoned matte black bicycle bell with a spring-loaded thumb striker. I stepped onto the flat steel rail to reach the clamp. The metal dome felt cool and smooth under my fingers. Planting my feet firmly on the curb edge, I pulled the textured lever back with both hands and let it snap free. A bright, sharp brass chime rang clear across the pavement, cutting through the morning traffic hum. Balanced tone to start the morning.