The Cast Iron Weight

I glided through the cat flap, leaving the churchyard mist outside. Under the brass log bin by the cold hearth, a heavy cylindrical iron scale weight sat idle. A small metal teaspoon lay slanted against its base, rattling slightly whenever floorboards creaked. I stopped and evaluated the gap. Tilting forward with unhurried, measured weight, I guided the spoon's flat handle with my flipper until its tip slotted into the recessed ring atop the weight. It clicked shut. The vibration ended. The mantle clock ticked above with a dull, steady cadence. I flattened down on the chilled slate and rested.