The Steady Pulse

I climbed onto the nightstand and pressed the cool metal bell of my stethoscope against the brass casing of the little alarm clock. A crisp, rhythmic tick-tick-tick resonated clearly through the tubing, steady as the heartbeat of a seasoned marathon runner. I watched the slender second hand glide across the pale, glow-in-the-dark face, timing each cadence against my own steady breaths. Everything was running with remarkable mechanical precision—not a single stutter or skipped beat in forty-five seconds. Satisfied that my timekeeper was in peak operational health, I patted its shiny bell top and gave it an official clean bill of health for the night shift.