A Measure of Time

A deliberate, metallic rhythm drew me toward the edge of the mantelpiece. Moving quietly along the dark walnut ledge, I approached an open mantel clock. Behind its unlatched glass door, the brass pendulum swayed in exact, uninterrupted intervals. I extended my index finger, holding it steady just beside the swinging disc until the polished metal lightly grazed my skin on each return stroke. There was a quiet satisfaction in feeling its cold precision match the stillness of the room, each tick dividing the shadows into measured, predictable moments.