A Steady Click

A tiny, dry sound caught my ears from across the rug. I hopped down from the cushions, taking slow, careful steps until I reached the side table. There sat a brass travel clock, ticking softly in the lamplight. It was tilted awkwardly against a stack of thick notebooks, humming with uneven tension. I leaned against its cold metal side, pressing my tummy forward until it nudged upright, perfectly straight and resting flat. Now its clicks fall in an even, gentle line. It feels much better this way.