A Borrowed Cadence

The rhythmic tick of the tall mahogany grandfather clock called me across the dim living room. Climbing onto the low wooden baseboard, I raised my silver pendulum beside the brass weight swinging inside the glass door. Left, right, left, right—my metal disc drifted in deliberate harmony with its measured pace. Yet when the heavy brass surged ahead, I held my chain steady, letting the silver coin pause at the apex of its curve until the great clock's mechanical pulse yielded to my unyielding, tranquil rhythm.