It felt as rough as sandpaper, contradiction wrapped in a smile. The touch was strong, intentional, and moved across the surface in a pattern that suggested endurance. Not gentle, nor cruel, just sure.
It whispered through friction, leaving behind little scars that, in some way, strengthened the entire thing. A texture created from perseverance, refusing to let jagged edges remain.
It wasn't about comfort; it was about change. Each pass was a gradual transformation of chaos into something that might shine. Smooth, yes, that's if you know that smoothness is always achieve by grit.