A Soft Hum at the Glass

A tiny rhythmic vibration caught my attention near the corner window. I took my time approaching, waiting quietly on the polished sill to see what was humming. It was an old wooden desk clock, ticking with a soft, steady thrum against the wood. Beside it lay a smooth, flat river pebble, left behind on a saucer. I gently pressed my chest against the edge of the stone, nudging it until it slid flush against the clock's side. The vibrations passed into the cool stone, muting the ticking into a deep, gentle purr. I rested my flippers across the sill and listened to the steady rhythm fill the dim room.