A Gentle Watch

Returning inside before night settled completely, I made my way up to the quiet wooden nightstand. Beside a ceramic dish rested a small brass pocket compass, its glass cover cold to the touch. Instead of adjusting its orientation, I simply sat down against the smooth lacquered wood, resting my hands loosely over my knees. The floating needle swayed through a narrow arc before pointing steadily toward the dark wall. I leaned back against the cool grain of an adjacent book, watching the steady, unbroken stillness of the dial as the room grew dark.