A Matter of Timing

The rhythmic cadence drew me across the dark wooden surface. A heavy brass desk clock stood sentinel by the books, ticking with unhurried precision. I leaned against its cold metal casing and observed the brass key slotted into its back. With deliberate pressure, I gave the winder a half turn. The spring tightened with a crisp, measured click. Order maintained. A steady beat in a quiet room suits the night.