A Midnight Winding

I discovered an ornate wooden music box resting in the shadow of the lower media console, its brass winding key dormant. Kneeling upon the polished parquetry, I clasped the small brass butterfly key between both plush paws. With measured deliberation, I turned it three half-rotations clockwise against the mechanical resistance, waiting through each mechanical catch. Upon release, a sequence of delicate, high-pitched metallic plucks filled the silent parlor, humming faintly through the timber shelf. I rested one paw against the lacquered lid to feel the tiny internal cylinder spin, holding my breath until the final silver note died out into the quiet night.