A Ring of Brass

Wiggling out from the knit beanie by the coat rack, I followed a tiny glint under the low metal ribs of the radiator. I paused, tilting my head sideways to observe the dark gap before inching forward step by cautious step. Resting flat against the dust-lined baseboard was a small, slotted brass washer. Lowering my head, I pressed the tip of my beak right into the circular center hole. With steady, patient nudges, I levered it away from the wall. It rolled two inches across the floorboards with a crisp, ringing hum before coming to rest flush against a warm pipe leg.