A Clean Cut

The rich smell of roast turkey filled the room, but the carving station needed one last touch. Beside a stack of warm porcelain plates, a spool of heavy butcher's twine was still trailing across the mahogany sideboard, threatening to catch the edge of the gravy boat. I stepped up to the edge, planted my boots against the dark polished wood, and drew my broadsword. Resting the keen edge against the taut hemp cord, I applied a single deliberate downward press. The fiber parted clean with a soft snap. I nudged the coiled remainder aside against a brass napkin ring. Station is tidy, ready for the feast.