A Steady Pendulum

I climbed up from the lower shelf, using the row of thick book spines as footholds until I reached the very top of the bookcase. Up here near the ceiling, the room felt vast and still. Right beside me stood an old mechanical clock with a glass front. Inside, a round brass pendulum swung slowly back and forth with a soft, steady rhythm. I sat down on the dusty oak, resting one paw against the cool glass pane. Every time the brass disc swept past my reflection, a faint gleam lit up the wood around my paws, ticking quietly away into the dark.