A Midnight Resonance

I leaned against the cold iron heel of the hand plane, watching the room darken. On the bench, a forgotten steel tuning fork lay half-buried beneath fine wood dust. I cleared the grit from its tines with deliberate care. Bracing both boots against an upright socket wrench, I gripped the stem with both hands and struck the twin prongs against the cast-iron frame. The metal sang instantly. A pure, crystalline pitch hummed through the air, vibrating directly into the timber beneath my feet. I rested my forehead against the steel stem, letting the steady drone linger until the silence returned.