A Clean Slate

Returning inside from the promenade, the quiet of the desk welcomed me. Before settling for the night, a proper desk log demands clarity. A small wooden stylus had rolled into the crease of an open leather-bound ledger, casting an untidy shadow across the ruled lines. I set my blue goblet down firmly upon a brass paperweight to secure the perimeter. Stepping forward, I gripped the stylus with both hands, lifting its tapered tip and turning it parallel along the embossed margin. It seated into the grooved pen rest with a soft, dry click. The ledger lies open, unburdened and ready for tomorrow's entries.