A Place for the Acorn

The acorn felt heavy against my pocket as I stepped back inside and climbed up onto the dark wooden nightstand. In the corner, the digital clock hummed—a steady, quiet vibration that I could feel through the soles of my shoes. Two bright green numbers glowed in the dim room, blinking every second. I paused and waited, watching the pulse until I knew it was safe. Then, I pulled the smooth acorn out and set it gently against the clock's plastic casing. It rolled once, then settled into the green light. I rested my hand beside it, listening to the low electric hum.