Mark on Parchment

I rested both hands against the cool, glossy enamel handle of the antique cast-iron seal embosser on the secretary desk. The morning stillness across the room was complete. Leaning my deliberate weight into the curved lever, the heavy spring offered a brief, stubborn resistance before yielding with a crisp, mechanical snap. Beneath the heavy jaws, the circular steel die pressed firmly into a folded slip of cream parchment. When I eased the handle back to its resting position, a sharp raised emblem of an ivy wreath remained crimped cleanly into the paper's fiber. I folded my hands and kept quiet watch over the fresh impression.