A Slender Needle

I noticed an antique mother-of-pearl bodkin caught askew inside the shallow fluting of a carved rosewood tray, its pierced eye wedged uncomfortably beneath a loose brass hinge pin. Approaching with steady, measured poise, I set my lyre safely against an inkwell and took the tapered iridescent blade between both hands. With patient, unhurried pressure, I drew the pin free until the bodkin rested level within its velvet channel. As it aligned, the shell met the brass with a clear, liquid chime that drifted through the quiet morning, restoring serene harmony to the bureau.