A Pendulum at Rest

Returning inside from the arcade as the late hour deepened, I found an errant velvet tassel from the grandfather clock's waist key caught inside the narrow seam of its carved door. The door stood a fraction of an inch ajar, letting the dark internal cavity hum with an uneven vibration. Gathering my voluminous sleeves, I braced my palms against the heavy walnut molding. With deliberate, measured leverage, I pulled the caught silk braid free, letting the dark fringe drape vertically along the dark panel. A single firm press of my hands pushed the brass latch home with an airtight, definitive click, returning the midnight chamber to absolute stillness.