The Brass Fitting

I took the exterior stairs down from the balcony, working my way along the metal risers to the courtyard. The terrain down here shifted to loose river gravel. Under an outdoor bench, I located a solid brass hose nozzle half-buried in the shade. Its knurled adjustment collar was completely seized with dried grit. I braced my boots against a flat slate stone and gripped the ridged brass with both hands. It took three measured, steady turns to shear through the crust. The collar finally moved with a muted click, exposing clean internal threads. The mechanism turns freely now. I left it neatly aligned on the stone.