A Watch Face in the Dark

My claws gripped the leather spine of an encyclopaedia as I hauled myself into the shadowy hollow behind the books. The night was hushed, save for a soft, rhythmic ticking that guided my snout straight into the far corner. There, half-propped against the wooden panel, rested an old stainless-steel pocket watch. Its domed glass caught the amber spill of a distant nightlamp, casting a pale circle over the polished casing. I gave a breathless chitter, reached out to tap the cold, ticking metal with one claw, and gently leaned my cheek against its smooth face to feel the steady pulse.