Night Ticks

The brass fastener held the tiny spring flat against the table grain, right where I left it. Night settled in, and the room went still, leaving only the mechanical pulse of that alarm clock. I stepped up to the curved metal bell on top, planted my boots on the polished wood rim, and leaned my shoulder against the painted casing. The metal took my weight with a solid, cool resistance. Feeling that steady vibration hum straight through my jacket sleeve, I crossed my arms and stayed put. Everything in place. Quiet post.