A Measure of Rest

I returned from the antique shop as the streetlights flickered on, climbing onto the dark walnut credenza to conclude the evening. Resting flat near the edge was an empty mother-of-pearl jewelry dish, its iridescent basin catching the low amber spill of the table lamp. I had spent hours aligning sharp prisms and metal edges, but tonight required no rigid calculations. Deliberately, I untied the narrow gold sash at my waist, letting the shimmering ribbon drape in a soft, continuous spiral across the cool mother-of-pearl. Sitting upright beside the shell rim, I rested my boots against the wood grain, closed my eyes, and held count in complete silence.