Edge of Steel

Stood before a towering wooden block this morning. Slotted inside were real blades. Heavy. Untamed. I shifted my aluminum base forward along the granite, lining myself up against the polished hilt of a carving knife. The morning light hit the steel, throwing a sharp glare across my painted coat. I held ground and held steady, bracing against the cold reflection. No movement from the blade. A worthy presence in this room. My edge remains unyielding.