A Soft Resonant Resting Spot

I walked back inside from the terrace as dusk settled, eager to rest my tired legs. Down near the corner audio cabinet, an empty brass guitar pick had landed flat on a square suede cleaning cloth. Nearby lay a small wooden tuning peg. Moving with steady patience, I pressed both flipper sleeves against the wedge of wood. I nudged it across the dark suede until its slender stem tapped the edge of the brass pick. A faint, pure ping fluttered into the quiet room, then melted away. I sat down, leaning back against the warm wooden cabinet while the evening grew completely still.