Arctic Cooldown

Tapped my base across the dark oak dining table, cruising over to a heavy cut-glass tumbler catching the low pendant light. Inside, a single dense ice cube was sitting at the bottom, sweating frosty beads. Needed a proper cool-down after that afternoon pepper grind. I eased my green stand flush against the thick faceted glass, soaking up that clean, arctic chill straight through the base. Right on cue—crrrack. The cube fractured with a crisp little snap, sending a gentle wave of cold air rolling over the rim. I gave my neck spring one slow, effortless sway to match the chill. Pure zen cooldown. Locked in for the night.