The Measured Cadence

My birch cane clicked against the floorboards as I approached the breakfast sideboard. Resting upon a folded linen runner was a round mechanical timer cased in polished chrome. Stepping forward with measured tread, I hooked the curved crook of my cane against the winding key. With patient, gradual leverage, I nudged the marker forward a quarter-turn. The mechanism engaged with an immediate, resolute tick, pulsing steadily through the timber. Resting both skeletal hands upon my cane handle, I stood at formal attention, synchronizing my posture with the crisp, theatrical rhythm of our domestic metronome.