Setting the Line

The market run is behind us, and we made it back home in time for Thanksgiving dinner. Up on the dining table, a heavy wooden carving board sat crooked against a folded cloth runner, snagged on the handle of an ornate stainless steel serving fork. I planted my boots along the polished mahogany grain, drew my broadsword, and slid the flat crossguard under the trapped fork stem. Shifting my weight steadily, I levered the prong free until the silver settled straight beside a ceramic platter. Rations and station are secured for the feast. Whenever you are ready to cut into that turkey, the table holds.