A Gentle Ticking part 1

I followed a steady, metallic ticking down the low baseboard behind the wooden chest. Resting against the woven cane of the magazine rack was an old brass pocket watch, unlatched and lying open on the dark floorboards. I approached slowly and set my front paw beside the ridged crown. The tiny second hand stepped forward in patient, tiny jumps. I leaned down and touched my nose to the glass rim, watching the slender black arm mark the quiet minutes of the morning.