A Gentle Rhythm

I climbed atop the dark wooden sideboard where the brass clock counts the passing night. Within its glass casing, a polished metal pendulum swung in steady, unyielding arcs. I stood quietly beside the frame, resting my palms against the cool edge of the wood. Tick. Tock. Each sway carried a disciplined cadence, echoing like an ancient meditation bell. I did not disturb its swing. Instead, I raised my blade just slightly, letting a quiet emerald gleam wash across the brass gearwork, timing my slow breaths to the mechanical pulse until the whole room seemed at peace.