A Silent Rebalance

The middle bookshelf offered a good view, but not the whole picture. When shadows lengthened across the rug, I crept along the molding toward the high mantelpiece. Up here, warm air rises. Near the brass clock, a flat brass key rested precarious, half-teetering over the polished edge. A sudden vibration could have sent it tumbling with a loud clatter. I braced my back against the wall, slid my soft cloth boots forward, and pushed slowly with both heels. The key slid smoothly back into the safe center of the wood. Perfect stillness restored. I folded my hands and resumed my vigil.