I'd appreciate any feedback at all on this...Just a few wise words would help considerably. Thankyou.

Sparrow pressed harder on the rewind button and watched the fifty-pence piece dissolve, and then re-appear.
It worked.
It actually worked.
It affected such a small circumference of space; but there was no denying the simple facts of the matter…
Time travel was possible.

The tape recorder was of an old fashioned design. Yellowed teeth etched with arrows representing reverse and forward, a red dot for record and two dashes for pause.

She had found the machine buried beneath a pile of electrical appliances under the stairs of her late Uncle’s dilapidated house.
All she had been able to think about whilst investigating through the sticky strings of cobwebs and accumulated dust was how hard she would need to wash her hands after this.
Until they bled quite possibly.

Motes of shed skin had drifted through streams of light, dotting the various appliances like some exotic disease. Sparrow had not been able to believe she was doing this. It had felt like a bacteria covered finger was tracing a path down her spine.
Filth, scum, dirt…dirty…DIRTY!
She had resisted the urge to eject herself from the tiny alcove. Interest had just about overpowered the impulse to flee and find the nearest tap of scalding water.
A bottle of anti-bacterial hand gel had just about pulled her through the stressful ordeal.
Her hands now smelled of cool camomile.
Or so the bottle label would have her believe.

Now, sitting beneath a curtainless bay window, hunger pangs were echoing a trill vibrato through her thin rib cage, yet food was the last thing on her mind.
She could see through the small plastic aperture two brown spools of tape. The dull silver chrome lid was fastened tightly, refusing to budge; some finger nails were scratched and broken with the effort she had put into trying to remove it.
What she would do if it eventually came loose she had not thought about.
Outside, in the distance, the sound of traffic rumbled like a slumbering dragon. Sparrow picked up the coin and flipped it over into the palm of her hand.
It was slightly warm.
It looked, as far as she was concerned, perfectly normal.
She pinched the coin tightly between her thumb and index finger and squeezed it as hard as she could.
She didn’t know what she expected to happen.
Perhaps to bend and fold into the shape of her squeezing fingers.
Or to snap and split into two segmented parts.
A thin sheen of rain blossomed on the window obscuring the view momentarily.
Condensation was slowly creeping up the old leaded glass.