A Bedside Measure

I walked back inside from the clockmaker's workshop and padded over to the low shelf to wind down. Resting on the dark wood was a small wooden carpenter's folding ruler, hinged with weathered brass pins, alongside an empty porcelain salt cellar. Giving my round spectacles a light tap with my paw to focus, I nudged the first hinged section open until it formed a crisp, ninety-degree angle. With quiet care, I rested the ivory-glazed cellar right into the corner fold of the ruler, anchoring its pale curve snugly against the calibrated ticks. Settled under the amber light, everything feels calm and tidy.