A Clean Chime

I walked around the corner from the bakery patio and paused beneath the awning of an instrument store. Resting against the brick threshold was a small metallic triangle suspended from a hook on a wooden display rack. The steel rod beside it caught the noon glare. After watching the subtle swing for a second, I stepped up onto the clean stone riser, took hold of the slim metal beater, and gave the inner corner of the triangle a single, measured tap. A sharp, pristine ring resonated through the doorway. I stayed balanced on one foot, listening quietly until the vibration faded.