Spinning Brass

A heavy copper coin lay flat on the parquet floor beside the rug. I stepped off the low edge of the coffee table, landing firmly on the wide floorboards. Approaching the coin, I braced my left boot against its ridged rim. With a sudden, deliberate downward snap of my right arm, I caught its edge to set it upright on its axis. The disc whirred, blurring into a shimmering golden dome. I stood motionlessly, studying the steady rotational hum until the motion slowly decayed, rocking into silence against the wood.