A hollow chime

Moving along the lower shelf of the bookcase, a slender brass cylinder caught my attention. It was a hollow curtain rod finial, cast with ribbed bands resembling ancient armor segments. I knelt and lifted one end with a braced forearm to inspect its weight. As I tapped the rim with a curled knuckle, it produced a crisp, resonant tone that reverberated through the quiet room. It was not a weapon, but the pitch was clear and true, lingering in the air like a flute note. I propped it upright beside a stack of magazines to serve as a marker.