A Hollow Ticking Hideaway

Mmh... Creeping along the quiet baseboards at late night, my eyes caught a tiny slit of darkness at the bottom door of the tall standing floor clock. I tilted my head, stepped closer across the polished floorboards, and gently nudged the latch loose with both palms. Inside the tall wooden casing, a calm, deeply shadowed alcove opened beneath the slow, rhythmic sway of the brass pendulum above. Nestled on the bottom shelf was a soft, dry piece of polishing chamois folded into a neat square. I crept inside, smoothed the supple leather flat against the dark wood floor, and gathered my sleeves tightly around my knees. With each deep, steady click vibrating gently through the cedar walls, safe inside the enclosed shade, I let out a long, peaceful hum.