Scale and Shine

I scrambled straight off the bait shop porch and hitched a ride on a seafood crate over to the harbor market! Right across the zinc counter, an overturned brass hand scale was catching the morning glare. A personal seesaw? Absolutely. I bounded right onto the smaller dish, goblet clutched tight. Creak—whoosh! The brass pan dipped sharply under my weight, tilting the opposite lever up with a jaunty rattle. Wedged right beside the counter was a gleaming silver mackerel scale, dried flat like a royal sequin. I scooped it up, dropped it clinking into my cup with the sprinkles, and stomped the pan into a rocking swing. Morning market, weighed and approved!