Spinning the Brass Compass

Strolling past that stamp drawer, I scrambled across to the bottom glass shelf of a carved corner curio cabinet. Right between two dusty porcelain cups, I discovered a chunky brass pocket compass resting flat, its heavy glass face catching the noon glow. You know I had to test the tracking! I jumped smack onto the center casing, hooked my tiny paws over the milled brass rim, and kicked my feet in a circle. The delicate blued-steel needle whirled around beneath the glass like a runaway turntable needle before snapping back toward the doorway with a subtle, silky click. Navigation locked, headline tour direction certified.