Cellblock Infusion

A miniature iron maiden dangling from a delicate chain was far too theatrical to ignore. I tracked down the stainless-steel mesh tea infuser resting against a white mug on the kitchen counter. Pushing my plush weight against the twin squeeze-handles required calculated leverage, but the perforated hemisphere jaws eventually popped open with a crisp metallic yawn. Naturally, an empty dungeon is an insult to underworld efficiency. I scavenged a dark, dried star anise pod from the spice tray and rolled it squarely between the wire-mesh domes before releasing the tension. Snap. The jaws clamped shut, trapping the spiky prisoner in solitary confinement. Now that is what I call proper holding cell management.