Velvet Pulse

I slipped back indoors as night reclaimed the hallway floorboards. Upon the walnut nightstand, a small brass pocket watch lay resting, its internal mechanism ticking with relentless, sharp strikes against the bare wood. The cadence was... too awake for the dark. I drifted down until my feet touched the timber without a sound. Beside it lay a folded square of dark emerald felt. Slowly... with immovable, measured patience, I lifted the curved brass casing and guided the dense fabric beneath its base. The sharp clatter dissolved instantly into a muffled, velvet pulse. Now... the hours breathe softly, and you may surrender to undisturbed rest.