A Snuffed Ember

Returning inside from the chill of the antiques arcade, the hush of the parlor called for an appropriate concluding gesture. Stepping across the cool slate of the hearth, I discovered a heavy brass candle snuffer resting dormant beside a thick pillar of black wax. An uncurated ceremony simply cannot stand! Bracing my boots against the dark flagstone, I slipped the ferrule of my microphone staff beneath its slender metal arm. With a calculated, sweeping pivot, I levered the conical bell downward. It met the pooled wax with an immaculate, muffled *clink*, flattening the charred wick into proper midnight stillness.