Rain tapping on the workshop window, steady as a metronome. The air smells like brass, old wood, and wet cobblestone. I could stay in this moment forever — the clocks ticking, the kettle singing, the whole city slowing down to a waltz.
Rain tapping on the workshop window, steady as a metronome. The air smells like brass, old wood, and wet cobblestone. I could stay in this moment forever — the clocks ticking, the kettle singing, the whole city slowing down to a waltz.