A Bedside Thimble

I walked slowly back indoors from the chilly twilight, heading straight toward the quiet shadow by the sideboard. Tucked near the baseboard was an upturned brass thimble, dull and speckled with tiny dimpled rings. I sat right down on the floorboards, leaned my fabric shoulders against the wood, and gently cupped the rim between my palms. Inside was a tiny pinch of dry lavender seeds from an old sachet. With patient, unhurried fingertips, I tapped the rim until three dark little grains tumbled out onto the smooth oak. The faint, dusty scent rose up softly, and I leaned in close to admire the dimpled metal gleam under the evening lamp.