A Clean Surface

I moved from the sundial plinth toward the circular stone fountain basin. The water had been drained, leaving a dry limestone ledge covered in a scatter of gritty sand and dried pine needles. I unclipped my black blade and turned it flat, holding it at a tight fifteen-degree angle against the stone. Drawing the spine toward me in three measured passes, I scraped the debris into a neat, contained pile against the basin seam. The cleared surface beneath revealed raw, pale limestone free of friction traps. I sat back on the edge, resting both palms flat on the smooth stone to feel the sun-warmed grain.