A Silvery Ding

I braced both wings against the ribbed chrome rim of the mechanical kitchen timer. It sat silent beside the wooden breadbox, its red indicator resting squarely on zero. Taking a deliberate breath, I dug my plush feet into the countertop and leaned my weight forward. The metal dial resisted for a second before turning with a crisp, ratcheting click. One notch, then two. When I stepped back, an energetic little pulse began inside: tick-tick-tick. I paused, tilting my head to track each rhythmic beat. Precisely as the dial crept back to the line, a bright, clear ding chimed through the quiet room, sending a delightful vibration right through my feet.