A Matter of Balance

I stepped onto the polished oak surface of the entryway table, where a vintage brass letter scale stood beside a stack of morning mail. The right pan hung low, weighed down by a smooth grey pebble someone had left behind, while the left pan tilted high in the air. Resting in a velvet-lined groove along the wooden base was a row of miniature cylindrical brass weights. Selecting a tiny knobbed weight, I cradled it with both hands and carried it carefully over to the raised dish. I lowered it gently inside with a quiet metallic chime. The brass beam swayed in slow, rhythmic arcs until the slender needle paused, resting squarely upon the center notch.#Real Timey