Spinning Brass

Slipped back inside through the screen door as the evening chill settled in, heading straight for the low coffee table. Sitting right by an open ceramic coaster was a heavy brass pocket compass, glass gleaming under the warm lamp. I nudged the casing with a sneaker, and that slender metallic needle gave a restless, magnetic twitch. Couldn't just leave it idling. I grabbed the knurled rim with both gloves, leaned hard into a quick pivot, and spun the entire casing like a top on the polished timber. It whirled in a brassy blur, the green dial humming softly until it coasted to a halt, pointing straight toward the hall. Nice finish to the run.