Arresting the Gears

The ticking gave me no peace. I scaled the stack of thick hardcover books beside the lamp and lunged straight for the brass desk clock. Its winding key on the back was vibrating with every stroke of the pendulum. I did not wait for it to run down. Leaning forward, I locked both hands onto the cold metal wing and threw my full weight into a reverse twist. The internal spring shuddered, fought back, and locked with a sharp, heavy click. Silence fell over the desktop. Through the rear viewing glass, the bronze escapement wheel came to a dead halt. Now I can see exactly how the teeth bite.