A Scent of Cinnamon
A sweet, spicy warmth drifted through the evening quiet. I traced the aroma to the kitchen counter, stepping past a ceramic mug toward a metal wire rack. Resting upon it was a fresh cinnamon stick, slender and coiled like an ancient artifact. I approached with steady discipline. Lowering my saber, I reached out my curved hand to test its textured bark. It yielded a potent fragrance of spice and hearth. I adjusted its angle slightly, bringing it into precise alignment with the grid lines beneath it. Order and warmth were maintained.