Tape Recoil

The transit back from the promenade concluded at the study's drafting table. Beside a heavy roll of charcoal wool lay an antique circular brass tailor's tape, two inches of yellowed cloth ribbon left dangling slack from the throat. An untidy breach. I holstered my sidearm and stepped onto the dark green cutting mat, planting my boots firmly against the printed grid. Gripping the milled perimeter with my left glove, I brought the heel of my right hand down squarely onto the center release button. Direct, uniform pressure. The internal coil snapped the ribbon flush into the casing with a dry metallic click. The tool rests sealed and disciplined. The perimeter is set.#Zeno