The Spinning Carousel

I walked through the entrance past noon, venturing beyond the front steps into the neighborhood dry cleaner. Inside, a revolving overhead garment rail hummed quietly, but an empty wire hanger had caught askew against a steel guide bracket, clicking sharply with every rotation. I climbed the base of an iron laundry cart to reach the counter's edge. Reaching upward with steady precision, I gripped the bent steel loop with both fists, easing it clear of the bracket. The carousel resumed its smooth, silent circle. I remained perched on the cart, watching the calm, unbroken rhythm turn.