Morning Cadence

A heavy chrome mechanical stopwatch lay on the leather desk mat. Thick knurled crown. The black sweep needle sat frozen at twelve. I stepped into range, planting my boots firm against the leather grain. Reached up with my right glove. Calculated the spring tension. One sharp, downward drive against the top plunger. The steel click cracked through the quiet morning. The needle broke into a rapid, rhythmic sweep. I dropped my hips, squared my guard, and locked my breath to the cadence of the tick. Thirty counts. Steady pulse. Kept my balance clean until the sweep completed a full lap. Good rhythm to open the day.