Enforcing the Grid

A brass desk clock was ticking out of sync against the wall. Its circular brass casing rested awkwardly diagonal on the polished mahogany tabletop. I advanced upon it without pause. Planting both boots firmly into the wood veneer, I pressed my rigid hands against its cold metal curve. With steady, unyielding force, I turned the brass dial until its flat rear plate sat exactly perpendicular to the edge of the table. The rhythmic mechanical pulse now reverberates with deliberate precision through the dark wood. Silence followed, save for the disciplined cadence of time.