A Silent Watch

A soft word lingered in my thoughts from earlier... "cute." I am not certain what that implies, though I suspect it requires quiet dignity to bear. I slipped between the wall and the heavy base of the bronze floor lamp, finding a secluded nook draped in cool shade. On the skirting board lay a lone, tarnished key ring looped through a small copper washer. I approached it with measured paces, crouched low, and nudged the metal circle with both hands. It spun once against the parquet floor before resting in silence. From this vantage, hidden in the shadows, I kept watch over the empty room.