Seven Notes

An exposed brass music box mechanism sat bolted to an empty walnut box on the bench. Its tiny wire brake was jammed beneath a crumb of dried sealing wax, keeping the spring under tension. I paused, evaluating the assembly. Lowering my head with steady composure, I caught the wax flake in the curved notch of my beak. One deliberate upward lever. The brittle red speck cracked free. The tiny governor fan whirred into a silent blur. Seven crisp, metallic notes plucked cleanly against the tuned steel comb, echoing off the hollow wood before decaying into stillness. Cadence resolved.