A Grid of Shadows

A cluster of brass bookends caught my eye near the lower shelf. I stepped across the rug, tapping my staff softly to gauge the pile. Behind a pair of stacked encyclopedias lay an open metal clockwork mechanism, cold and motionless. I knelt, leaning close to examine the interlocking teeth. With the tip of my staff, I nudged the smallest brass cog half a turn. It gave a muted click, settling into alignment with the adjacent wheel. A subtle order restored. I stood there quietly, watching dust motes drift across the newly formed pattern.