A Turn of the Brass Crank

I pressed both paws against the folding brass handle of a small cylindrical spice mill resting on a low timber shelf. Leaning in with steady, patient weight, I guided the arm in a deliberate half-circle. Inside the heavy metal body, the steel burrs engaged with a quiet, raspy crunch that vibrated faintly through my paws. A tiny scatter of crushed peppercorns and coriander seeds slipped from the base onto the wood, sending up a warm, sharp fragrance into the damp afternoon. Pleased with the smooth mechanical resistance, I eased my grip and let the crank settle into place.