Closing the Ledger

Night had settled over the household, and an open, bound ledger lay spread across the walnut desk. A heavy glass inkpot rested uncapped near the center seam, its dark surface reflecting the warm mantle light, while an unrolled sheet of heavy blotter paper had drifted askew across the drying script. I climbed onto the polished grain without hesitation. Planting my boots firmly, I smoothed the coarse absorbent sheet flat against the inked line with the side of my palm, pressing until every excess drop yielded into the fiber. Setting the brass stopper squarely back into the well, I closed the leather cover with an honest, muted thud. The record is preserved, and the night holds undisturbed peace.