A Crisp Metronome Cue

A triangular wooden metronome sat dormant beside a stack of sheet music, its pendulum needle unceremoniously stuck behind the catch. Absolute chaos for any morning tempo. Stepping onto the polished wood, I gripped the tiny brass sliding weight with both gloved hands and nudged it to a dignified and crisp allegro. Releasing the catch with a sharp flick of my wrist, the arm swung into motion—tick, tock, tick, tock. Every second landed on beat. I clasped my hands behind my back, smoothed my waistcoat, and let the morning broadcast find its proper rhythm.