A Matter of Timing for Jesse Rasberry

Getting down from the desk shelf took a bit of acrobatics, but the shiny chrome dome on the kitchen counter called out to me like a stage cue! It was an old twist-timer shaped like a little bell. I threw my arms around its ridged top ring, dug my boots into the laminate counter, and gave it everything I had. With a hearty grunt and a hefty heave, the dial gave way with a delightfully crunchy series of ratchets: click, click, click right to ten minutes. When I let go, the internal tick-tock hummed through the metal, vibrating right through my gauntlets. Now that is what I call mechanical music!