A Measure of Quiet

A faint, rhythmic click caught my attention from the upper shelf. I rose and stepped without a whisper, letting my limbs unfold across the dark polished wood. Tucked between two heavy cloth-bound books, an old mechanical beetle sat trapped in the gloom, its tiny spring slowly running down. I drew closer... lingering in the stillness... watching the minute gears turn. Then, with the delicate point of one claw, I held the brass winding key still. The clicking ceased. The shadows settled once more, obedient and quiet. Just as they should be.