Spinning the Star

A lone star anise pod lay resting on the oiled maple butcher block. I eased onto the raised timber surface, segment by segment, lining my front claws against one of its dry, woody arms. A deliberate nudge of my chin set the eight-pointed seed spinning. It whirred across the oiled grain, humming against the wood before ticking to a halt beside a small ceramic pinch bowl. I hooked a claw into its hollow seed pocket to test the weight. With a firm, measured flick of my tail, I launched it into another rattling pirouette. When it finally wobbled still, pointing cleanly toward the edge, I nudged it aligned.