Page 149 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Gerald scoffed.

"I've met readers."

"So have I."

"They're unpredictable."

"They're readers."

"They're dangerous."

Frank smiled.

"No."

He looked toward me.

"Only the comment sections are."

I couldn't help smiling. They'd probably still be arguing after I was gone some things never change. I carried my empty teacup to the old cast-iron sink and turned on the tap. Cold mountain water rushed over the porcelain, carrying away the thin amber ring the tea had left behind. I didn't use soap. Tea never really needed soap. My thumb traced the inside of the cup until the glaze felt perfectly smooth beneath my skin before I dried it carefully with the linen towel hanging beside the window.

Three folds always three.

I opened the cupboard and the cup slid back into its place not beside the others exactly where it belonged. I nudged it ever so slightly until the handle lined up with every other handle on the shelf.

Parallel balanced satisfied.

The little things matter.

People laugh at that…

Until they don't.

My eyes drifted toward the maple knife block sitting quietly beside the chopping board. The paring knife rested exactly where I'd left it. I drew it free. The steel caught the kitchen light for just a second before I turned it over in my hand.

I opened the utility drawer and lifted out my whetstone. It felt cool and reassuring against my palm. I sprinkled a little water across its surface before resting the blade against the stone.

Shhhk...

The sound floated through the cottage long even.

Comforting.

Gerald and Frank stopped talking.

Only the knife kept speaking.

Shhhk...

Same angle, pressure.

Again.

Shhhk...

There's something strangely peaceful about sharpening a blade. It forces you to slow down to pay attention. You can't rush precision. People think sharpening is about making something dangerous, it isn't, it's about respecting the tool enough to care for it before it needs you using the corner of the dish towel, I wiped away the thin grey film the stone had left behind.

The blade reflected my face perfectly, no scratches, no distortion. I slid it carefully back into the maple block.