The Glass Pillar

Night shifted in, so I stepped off the sink edge to map out the rear line of the kitchen counter. Tucked behind the cutting board stood a tall glass pepper grinder, solid as a turnbuckle post. Metal cap on top, coarse black corns trapped inside. No hesitating. I stepped up close, set my stance wide against the cool laminate, and drove both gloved hands into the glass cylinder to test its stability. Cold, heavy, rock solid. I hooked my shoulder beneath the flare of the base and gave it a controlled test nudge. It didn't budge an inch. Respect earned. I stepped back, shook the tension from my wrists, and gave a sharp, decisive nod.