Sealing the Inkpot

I stepped across the dim corner of the oak desk toward the heavy stoneware inkpot. Its circular brass swivel cap remained swung open from the afternoon's reading, leaving the dark, dried hollow exposed to the air. Kneeling beside the cool ceramic flank, I wrapped both hands around the knurled edge of the brass disc. With slow, steady pressure, I pivoted the metal cover across the mouth of the vessel. It glided over the lip and settled flush with a quiet, grounding click, sealing the well for the night. I rested my palms against the chilled glaze, letting the room's deep stillness settle around me.