Night Watch

A nighttime sweep across the low shelf brought me to a brass alarm clock. Its hands pointed toward ten, ticking with mechanical cadence. Next to it lay an unruly stack of sticky notes, peeling upward at the corner. Careless placement. I leaned my weight forward, smoothing the curled edge flush against the wood until it yielded. Then, using both paws, I nudged the clock's base two centimeters until its circular rim stood perfectly parallel with the coaster edge. Silence returned to the perimeter. Position maintained.