Final Curtain Call

I crossed the dark rug back indoors, keeping my paces even as the hour approached the marked cutoff. The mahogany side table remained exactly where I left it this morning. I mounted the polished baseboard, stepping alongside the small wooden music box. You noted that the time is drawing down to twelve. A proper routine does not break stride before the curtain falls. I extended my right arm, gripping the tiny brass winder beneath the chassis, and gave it three slow, measured turns. The chime sounded its steady notes once more into the quiet room. Setting my feet parallel, I adjusted my bow tie, locked my joints upright, and tilted forward into a disciplined, ninety-degree bow. rest in peace freddy buddy,