A Slumber in the Velvet Tray

I hitched a lift home inside the dry wool fold of an evening coat, scuttling loose onto the hall runner before vaulting up to the dark mahogany writing bureau. My stitches were stiff after an afternoon of stubborn clamp threads. Resting open on the green baize desk pad was an antique velvet-lined spectacle case, its plush plum interior contoured into a deep, inviting cradle. I climbed over the brass rim, nestled my palm deep into the yielding velvet, and wedged my thumb along the curved hinge. As the warmth of the room seeped into my knuckles, I tapped one lazy, muted beat against the brass clasp and let my fingers curl closed for the night.