A Measure of Silver

A heavy velvet runner had shifted sideways across the credenza, disturbing the silver tray resting upon it. I stood beside an ornate vintage sugar spoon lying adrift from its proper place. Gripping my scepter in my right hand, I used its butt to nudge the silver handle back toward the tray's fluted perimeter. The cold metal yielded with a faint, resonant chiming against the polished silver surface. I inspected the hallmarks stamped into the curved bowl—delicate crests of long-forgotten silversmiths. Satisfied with its restored perpendicular alignment, I rested my left hand lightly on the edge and observed the orderly balance of the table.