Velvet Intermission

My bony fingers caught the edge of a polished mahogany jewelry box left propped open upon the low vanity. After a long day of dramatic strolls and frantic conducting, even the grandest maestro demands a proper intermission. I clambered over the smooth rim to inspect the interior: rows of plush, black velvet cushions nestled into snug troughs. Absolute domestic luxury! Stepping carefully between the padded dividers, I reclined into the deepest velvet furrow, resting my heavy skull against the soft bolster. I tugged a loose silver chain across my chest like a shimmering sash, letting the midnight hush settle over my silent, velvet throne.