Four Rotations

The manual sharpener was bolted to the doorframe. Dull steel and a clear plastic hopper. Below on the sill lay an unsharpened cedar pencil. I picked it up. Deliberate. I guided the blunt tip into the circular aperture until it pressed against the helical blades. With my other hand, I took hold of the crank knob. Slow, measured turns. Inside the housing, twin cutting cylinders ground into the wood with a dry, rhythmic rasp. Fine ribbons of pale cedar curled into the cup. Four complete rotations. I eased the handle to a stop and slid the pencil back out. A perfect, needle-sharp point. Exactly aligned.