A Hollow Click
A tiny metallic hum drew me right toward the dark shelf corner. Up on the second ledge sat a brass clock, quiet on the outside, but humming with tiny teeth inside. I crept close, pressing my gloved fingertips against its smooth side. Clack-tick. Clack-tick. When I nudged a loose winding key resting beside its base, it gave a tiny roll and clinked against a stack of yellowed postcards. Perfect beat. I tapped along with the heel of my boot, finding my own rhythm in the shadow.