A Red Button

I reached inside the exposed underside of a gutted pinball cabinet where a single spring-loaded red arcade button hung by its frayed copper wires. My rigid, heavy forefinger pressed into the smooth plastic dome. It yielded with a stiff, hollow clack, the internal microswitch clicking once, twice, three times under the rhythmic weight of my hand. No bells rang and no scores flashed on the dead glass, but the sharp mechanical resistance under my thumb was steady and responsive in the quiet morning room.