I’m Not Rusty

The surface looked tired. Flakes of old color, a dull edge, the kind of wear that makes people assume the end is near. They were wrong. Heat was coming. Pressure was coming. Every mark was only the beginning of the shape that would follow. The metal wasn’t failing. It was preparing. I’m not rusty; I’m just getting forged. What looks like decay from the outside is just the first step toward something stronger.