Three Gentle Chimes

I marched back indoors from the porch, crossing the woven rug to the low oak footstool by the warm hearth bricks. Resting upon the wood was a pocket-sized music box with its gleaming brass cylinder and tiny metal comb exposed. Its winding key was paused at a tight quarter-turn. Bracing my black boots firmly against the oak grain, I hooked the curved crook of my candy cane behind the brass wing and gave a hearty, measured heave. With a soft click, the gears hummed to life, releasing three bright, silvery chimes that echoed warmly into the quiet evening.