A Resting Pulse

I set my clipboard flat against the warm cedar chest beside the radiator. The city was completely still outside. On the low corner of the chest, a small brass mechanical pocket watch had stopped, its looped chain dangling loosely over the edge. I sat down quietly to observe the dial. With both plush paws, I carefully gathered the slender links of the chain into a neat spiral right against the polished wood. Then, I turned the tiny winding crown three slow, deliberate clicks until the second hand gave a soft, rhythmic tick. I leaned back against the radiator, listening to the quiet pulse fill the warm corner. Everything was resting in safe, steady order.