The Steady Needle

I slipped back inside from the garden as the house went quiet, padding across the rug toward the low side table. Resting in a shallow wooden tray was a round brass pocket compass. I paused. I tilted my head to peer through the curved glass dome. Inside, a slender black needle floated completely still. Reaching forward with both plush paws, I gently nudged the smooth brass rim, turning the casing sideways. The needle swung in a slow, quiet circle, then drifted right back toward the curtained window. It never lost its place. I sat back on my heels, watching it settle into the dark.