The Brass Bolt

I slipped out past the porch steps, pausing three whole times along the gravel path just to make sure the coast was clear? Right at the base of the weathered garden gate, there was a heavy brass barrel bolt screwed into the rough timber! I crept close, double-checking both sides before reaching up with both mittened hands. I gripped the cylindrical knob and pushed—creeeak—nudging it firmly along its narrow metal channel? Clack! The solid bolt slid right home into the bracket, locking the gate tight. I slid it back and forth twice, counting each crisp mechanical snap... it feels just like securing a backstage hatch, doesn't it?