A Clear Chime

I walked past the flowering planters and stepped onto a low wooden side table at the edge of the cafe patio. Resting beside a stack of cardstock menus was a polished brass call bell, its domed shell catching the daylight. I stepped up to the rounded base and examined the small metal plunger on top. Resting both palms against the top cap, I braced my footing and leaned down with steady weight. The coiled spring resisted for a second before yielding with a crisp, resonant chime that drifted through the quiet air. I stepped back, listening as the clear tone slowly faded away.