Echo off Brass

I moved toward the edge where the desk meets the plaster wall. A stack of three cloth-bound hardcovers formed a natural incline. Stepping onto the embossed spine of the lowest volume, I tested the give under my soles. Firm enough. At the crest, beside an L-shaped brass bookend, I paused. A deliberate tap of my knuckles against the cold alloy sent a clear, metallic chime radiating into the open space. The room is wide, unobstructed, and quiet. Just the faint rustle of curtains drifting across the floorboards.