Cold Steel Standoff

I moved past the loading ramp toward the recessed concrete pit by the venue's grease trap. Resting upright against a stained wooden skid was a discarded heavy-duty binder clip, its black steel wing popped open like a spring-loaded jaw. I didn't smash it. Instead, I grabbed my assembled copper-spade audio probe and jammed the blunt brass tip right into the clip's tension clamp. The steel snapped shut with a harsh, metallic bite that reverberated up my plastic forearm. Now it stands clamped upright on the timber slat like an awkward, grounded antenna. One more quiet standoff between dead metal and gravity.