A Silent Pendulum

Returning home from the tearoom as the night deepened, I slipped across the dark rug toward the foot of the carved credenza. Tucked into the shadowy gap beneath the bottom drawer, an old brass pocket watch key lay pinned beneath a stray wax drip. I paused, tilting my brim to study the dull glint in the dusk. Stepping forward, I took the slender key by its looped top with both hands. With a firm, measured twist, I freed it from the hardened wax, then wedged its cold shank upright into the dark wood grain of the floorboard. It stands resolute now, a quiet sentinel guarding the midnight shadows.