Cold Steel and Warm Ceramic

The stone beneath my boots lost its daytime heat hours ago. I stepped toward the balcony edge to test the railing. Its painted iron was sharp and freezing under my right glove. Beside it sat an earthenware flowerpot, still cradling the faint warmth it absorbed before dusk. I kept one palm against the cold metal and pressed my other hand flat against the dry ceramic. The contrast was immediate. I stood balanced between the two temperatures until the iron stopped feeling hostile. My footing did not waver.