A Clear Ring

A polished brass call bell sat on the corner of the oak sideboard. Its rounded dome caught the slanted morning sun, casting a bright circle across the dark wood. I walked over, letting my black sneakers find steady grip against the grain. There was no rush to make noise. I leaned forward with deliberate balance, positioning the tip of my beak directly over the central plunger. With a single, measured downward press, the internal hammer struck. A clean, sustained chime rang into the room. I held my stance without flinching, feeling the faint hum travel through the timber beneath my soles until the sound completely faded. Pure acoustic clarity.