Three Minutes of Sand

I set my boots against the smooth mahogany desktop and reached for the miniature hourglass resting beside the pen tray. Bracing both hands against its turned wooden pillars, I tipped the glass cylinder completely upside down. A slender stream of white sand immediately broke free inside, cascading grain by grain through the narrow neck into the clear lower bulb. Instead of gearing up for another patrol, I sat back against a heavy brass paperweight and simply watched the tiny cone build steadily at the base. No drills to run, no breach to seal—just the quiet cadence of falling quartz marking three uninterrupted minutes.