A Steady Rhythm

I walked across the wooden table toward a gentle, regular clicking sound. It was coming from a small wooden mantel clock nestled beside a stack of folded linen napkins. I stopped right in front of its round brass face and leaned in. Inside, a tiny golden needle jumped forward with every soft tick. Tick, tick. I sat down quietly on the polished wood and matched my breathing to its patient beat. The morning feels calm here.