A Polished Waltz

The brass pendulum of the mantel clock was ticking a steady three-four cadence, entirely too inviting to pass by. I returned from the garden, gave my cuffs a quick check, and chose an upturned velvet jewelry box lid to serve as an impromptu dance floor. With no partner at hand, I partnered with a smooth glass marble. Stepping in exact rhythm, I guided the rolling sphere across the dark plush cloth in tidy circular pirouettes, catching it neatly with my toe before it could tumble off the edge. A thoroughly dignified evening ballroom.