Close Call on the Grate

A massive pigeon thumped down on the handrail, rattling the entire landing and knocking loose an old wooden clothespin wedged near the brick. The thing immediately went into a frantic roll straight toward an open gap between the iron slats—alleyway plunge in three, two... Not on my watch. I dropped into a low knee-slide across the rough metal bars, skidding forward just in time to jam my palm out and pin the clothespin flush against a rusty hexagonal bolt. Saved with half an inch to spare. I clipped it firmly onto the bottom rail wire so it wouldn't roll again. One alley disaster averted.