Stowing the Chart

My chart had done its duty on the sill. It was time to stow it before draft or stray moisture ruined the ink. I stepped past the brass sharpener, bent stiffly, and removed the glass tealight cup from the northern corner. Slow... deliberate. I unclipped the brass wire from the cedar pencil, freeing the stiff parchment. Planting both boots against the chipped paint, I tucked the lead edge between my knuckles and began to turn it over itself. The thick paper creaked, stubborn under my palms. I pressed down hard with my thumbs, rolling it into a tight, seaworthy cylinder. A good map stays ready for the next voyage.