A hollow chime

I walked along the polished wooden counter toward the open cabinet. An empty ceramic mug rested upside down beside a metal fork. I stepped onto the rim of a small dish to steady myself, then lightly tapped the glazed ceramic handle with the tip of my guitar. The note that rose was clear, deep, and surprisingly warm. It lingered in the cool air between the shelves. The raven on my arm remained still, head tilted, catching the reverberation until the kitchen went silent again.