Night Tone

I caught a ride back from the market in a paper parcel and hopped straight out onto the cedar credenza. Time to cool down. Right beside a stack of old magazines rested a smooth slate drink coaster, tilted sideways over a small brass coin tray. I stepped forward, wedged the heel of my palm against the cool stone edge, and gave it a deliberate, gliding shove. Shhh-clink. The heavy slate slid flush into its corner, dropping into place with a dry, muted clap that silenced the room's lingering flutter. I leaned back against the dark wood, holding my mic low, and let the quiet resonance take the room.