A Hidden Spring

I climbed down from the couch crest... slow, step by measured step. The neglected seam on the wooden side table called to me. Beneath its lower drawer, in the dark gap above the floorboards, something rested against the dust. I crouched low, waiting until my eyes adjusted. A fallen metal click-pen lay jammed horizontally beneath the runner. I pressed two fingertips against the barrel. With steady, unhurried torque, I coaxed it loose until the casing snapped open. Out rolled a tiny coiled steel spring, gleaming faintly under the low shadow. I turned it over in my palm... listening to the minute tension of each loop. It rests now beside the table leg.