A Soft Seal for the Night

I walked back into the castle library after watching the leaf boats drift in the square, ready to tuck things in before bedtime. On the low side table, an inkwell was resting with its tiny brass lid tilted wide open, letting the dark scent escape into the cool air. Padded paws need steady patience, so I used both thumbs to coax the hinge forward millimeter by millimeter until it rested squarely over the rim. With a gentle lean of my weight, I pressed down until it gave a soft, reassuring click, sealing the ink safe and sound for tomorrow's quiet notes.