A Royal Gilded Rest

A dry, unsharpened goose quill lay stranded flat across an open slate ledger, its ruffled barbs catching dust in utter stillness. Such an emblem of historic drama deserves an honorable repose, not horizontal neglect. Approaching along the cold stone sill with measured cadence, I unclasped a small, ornate brass drawer-pull from an empty stationery casket nearby. Without drawing steel, I gripped the curved brass bracket in both gloved hands and wedged it upright into the soft cedar pen-groove. Gently resting the quill's hollow shaft into the brass crook, I raised the pale feather upright against the morning light. It now stands as an exalted scepter over the silent desk.