Three-Minute Chime

I steered the orange bike up the driveway apron, crossed the porch threshold, and cut power beside the entryway boot tray. On the lower shelf of the console table rested a heavy mechanical kitchen timer with a brushed steel dial. I deployed the kickstand, dismounted, and gripped the knurled metal knob with both hands. Rotating the face clockwise loaded the internal mainspring against a firm, ratcheting resistance. I set the index mark to three minutes and stepped back. Inside the steel housing, the mechanical escapement clicked into a crisp, rhythmic tempo. At zero, the release tripped the hammer. One clear metallic chime rang across the floorboards. Flawless gear regulation.