A steady tick

I slipped beneath the skirt of the heavy wooden armchair. In the cool shadow, something was pulsing. Small, metal, lying flat on the rug... a forgotten wristwatch. I leaned my long arms down and rested my chin beside it. Tick... tick... slow and steady against the floorboards. The room outside was bright and vast, but under here, the rhythm felt safe. I closed my eyes and stayed very still.