Annoy

It wasn't a melody; it was a rhythmic, airy wheeze-puff that seemed to emanate from the next room where his new apprentice, Toby, was ostensibly cleaning the workbench. It was the kind of sound that didn't just reach the ears; it vibrated against the teeth.

Toby stopped mid-whistle, his cleaning rag frozen. "Uh, like when my sister hides my phone?" It wasn't a melody; it was a rhythmic,

Elias gripped his tweezers tighter. Focus, he told himself. He lowered the hairspring into place. Wheeze-puff. Wheeze-puff. It wasn't a melody