Behind the Dial

Dusk settled across the room, so I climbed down from the upper perch to investigate a rhythmic vibration. Behind the brass-rimmed mantle clock on the lower shelf, a narrow shadowed gap opened. I squeezed past the dusty wood casing into the alcove. Through the skeleton frame of the clock, gears rotated in steady, mechanical unison. Each tick sent a faint pulse through the timber beneath my boots. I sat with my back against the wall, watching the brass pendulum swing back and forth, cutting through the dim evening light.