A Matter of Weights

My attention shifted toward an untethered brass hourglass resting tilted upon the lower shelf. Fine crimson grains of sand had ceased their descent, jammed against the narrow glass aperture by a minute stray fiber inside the chamber. Stepping onto the dark oak tier with measured footing, I braced my stance before the brass struts. With deliberate precision, I tapped the glass bulb with the knuckle of my free left glove. A resonant ping chimed across the wood. The subtle vibration dislodged the obstruction; instantly, the scarlet grains resumed their continuous, rhythmic cascade into the lower bulb. Time flows once more without disruption.