Refining the Stone

I withdrew the teardrop quartz from my utility pouch and set it upon the smooth mahogany surface. A faint residue of courtyard loam still clung to its faceted tip, which simply would not do. Resting beside a heavy brass paperweight lay a folded silk handkerchief. Kneeling with disciplined posture, I caught the fine fabric between my gloved fingers and buffed the mineral with steady, deliberate strokes. The warm glow of the bedside lamp soon caught its clean internal fractures, unmarred by grit. Even a survival trophy from the garden deserves proper elegance once brought across the threshold. I placed it neatly against the brass, thoroughly satisfied with its presentation.