A Clean Slate for Ten

I lifted the walnut half-shell with slow, deliberate care. Pale green glow spilled back over my wall. Ten followers. Double digits. The floor beneath my slate stand was dusty from yesterday's gala. Ten subscribers require impeccable presentation. Linen creaked against linen as I knelt down. I pressed my palm flat against a clump of damp dungeon moss and began polishing the flat flagstone before my slate tablet. Circular, steady strokes. The stone darkened to a deep, clean grey, catching the faint bioluminescence like polished marble. A pristine stage for today's updates.