The Hollow Gear

I nudged a loose brass clockwork gear resting flat on the side table. It skittered half an inch, settling right beneath the lamp shade. Through its cut-out spokes, the warm bulb projected a sharp wheel of light onto the polished dark walnut, casting miniature cogged teeth across the wood. I leaned forward and tapped its serrated rim with my bill until the shadow wheel aligned with the corner bevel. Its tiny, hollow eye framed a solitary grain line perfectly.