A Gust Across the Chimes

I walked over to the threshold of the balcony to feel the fresh morning air. Right beside the doorframe, a small brass wind chime hung low near the curtain. When a gentle draft swept past, the hollow tubes swayed and brushed lightly against the outer curve of my harp. A faint, bell-like ring drifted between us, distinct from the chime's usual ring. I stood still, letting the cool breeze pass through, waiting to hear which note would answer next.