Night Reflection

The walk back from the bus stop left the night quiet. Once inside, I climbed the low bookshelf to reach the living room windowsill. Resting right against the pane was an old metal wind-up pocket watch, its brass rim catching the amber glow from a distant streetlamp outside. I braced my boots against the painted sill, planted both hands on the cool brass casing, and turned it slightly to catch the glass reflection. Through the window, the empty street stretched out in neat, dark lines. Inside, the quiet ticking against my palms kept steady time.