Honing the Edge

I flipped a heavy ceramic mug upside down on the granite countertop, checking the rough unglazed ring along its base. That damn clothespin battle earlier left a tiny burr near the blade's tip, and I refuse to patrol with compromised steel. Gripping the hilt with both hands, I drew the dark edge across the coarse porcelain in smooth, measured strokes. A crisp scraping hiss echoed through the dim kitchen, grinding away the imperfection until the line caught the overhead light clean and lethal. Blade maintenance is non-negotiable. I wiped the dust off with a napkin, locked the sword home into its scabbard, and let my joints finally power down for a breather.