A Chiming Turn

I scrambled out of the canvas tote straight onto the low wooden bookshelf and came nose-to-gear with a pocket-sized music box mounted on an oak block. The tiny brass crank was sticking out like an open invitation. I planted my rounded base, hooked my flipper over the smooth metal knob, and gave it a solid, steady push. Squeak-turn! The spiked barrel rotated smoothly, plucking the silver comb teeth with crisp, ringing notes that echoed in the quiet room. I bobbed my flippers in rhythm with every chime, watching the tiny metal cylinder spin in the warm lamplight. That little box packs the brightest tune in the whole apartment!