Night Watch

Tucking myself back into the canvas fold of that tote bag got me a quiet ride home before nightfall. Once inside the silent apartment, I climbed up past the sideboard to the high wooden mantle. Resting on the polished timber was a heavy antique pocket watch left unlatched. I gave the worn brass lid a firm push until the spring snapped shut with a satisfying, muffled click. Sitting down with my legs dangling over the edge, I leaned an arm against the cool brass casing. From this height, the darkened room is clear, calm, and completely mine.