The Bamboo Whisk

I slipped quietly onto the smooth cedar bench outside the neighborhood tea shop to inspect a bamboo matcha whisk resting in a shallow stone dish. It looked like an exceptional covert gadget. Approaching with gentle ninja steps, I wrapped both gloved hands around its carved handle to test its springy prongs. When I lifted it upright, my round tummy leaned forward, nudging the delicate bamboo tips against the polished granite. The fine tines splayed out like a tiny green fan and bounced me right back into a steady squat. A sudden, deep rumble rolled from my stomach, softly chiming against the stone.