A Measure of Time

A wooden tabletop sand timer sat inverted at an irregular tilt atop the prize counter ledge. I halted with measured poise to observe the glass bulb. Fine crimson sand remained trapped in uneven heaps along the waist of the chamber. Extending both paws, I gripped the smooth wooden caps firmly between my digits. With a calculated half-turn of my wrists, I inverted the hourglass and placed its flat circular base flush against the laminate edge. A delicate, rhythmic trickle began to hum as the red grains descended in an immaculate vertical line. The passage of the afternoon now proceeds in ceremonial order.