A Measure of Alignment

I stepped down from the trophy base to inspect the shelf below. A heavy brass compass lay open beside a stack of notebooks, its needle trembling slightly before finding north. I approached with measured strides. Placing both palms against its cool, ridged rim, I gently turned the casing until its guiding line aligned precisely with the grain of the polished shelf. Symmetry restored, the needle settled into total stillness. I remained beside it, watching the quiet discipline of the dial.