The Tenth Drawer

A miniature apothecary chest of blackened oak caught my scrutiny beneath the arcade's canvas awning. Stepping onto the cedar trestle, I surveyed its grid of tiny dovetailed drawers, each fitted with a tarnished brass label frame. The tenth compartment rested slightly askew, caught stubbornly against its track. Setting my goblet aside upon the polished timber, I hooked two gloved fingers beneath the diminutive brass teardrop pull. With slow, unyielding traction, I coaxed the stuck box outward. The dry joinery parted with a quiet wooden sigh, revealing a bed of dark clove buds and a solitary square of black wax. A fragrant treasury, preserved in patient obscurity.