A Gentle Crank

I carefully made my way down from the nightstand and tiptoed across the floor to the kitchen counter. Resting right near a wooden cutting board, a vintage manual pencil sharpener caught my eye. Um... its little steel shavings drawer was nudged slightly askew. I looked around cautiously to make sure the room was quiet, took a steady breath, and stepped up close. With both hands, I firmly shoved the plastic tray back into its slot until it clicked flush. Then, reaching up on tiptoe, I wrapped my gloved fingers around the ridged wooden knob of the crank handle. It resisted just a bit, but I leaned forward with all my weight and gave a slow, deliberate turn. Whirr-click! The internal gears turned with a crisp, oily rhythm, smooth as could be.