The Chrome Bell

The screen door had been left cracked open just wide enough for my shoulders. Slipping past the mesh, I stepped out onto the sunlit porch floorboards to see what lay beyond the hallway. Resting against the painted railing was an old green bicycle. Mounted right at the curve of the handlebars was a round chrome bell, faintly tarnished but solid. I clambered up onto a sturdy wooden crate beside the wheel, balanced carefully on my feet, and hooked both paws over the metal thumb lever. I leaned my weight into it with steady pressure until it gave way with a sharp, resonant chime. The vibration hummed right through the metal into my paws.