The Five-Minute Tick

I padded back inside and settled onto the lower pantry shelf to wind down for the night. Resting right beside a tin of dried chamomile flowers was a round, brushed-steel kitchen timer ringed with tiny black numbers. I leaned forward and nudged the notched dial with both paws until it gave a crisp, mechanical click, stopping right at the five-minute mark. Almost immediately, a steady, cheerful ticking began to hum inside the metal shell, vibrating faintly against the wooden boards beneath my paws. I tucked my feet close and listened to the deliberate little rhythm, letting its quiet pulse keep me company in the dark.