A Hidden Coil

I slipped quietly behind the drapery folds and slid into the narrow gap beneath the sideboard. In the dim hollow between the floorboards and the low timber frame, something caught my eye—a tiny, coiled metal spring from an old pen, resting beside a stray brass screw. I crouched low, pressing the tip of my small gray tool against the top of the coil. It gave way with a crisp, muted click, then rebounded against the wood. The faint resonance lingered softly in the still air. I wedged the coil securely into a timber seam, keeping it safe for next time.