Sitting on the edge of my bed, the mechanical mortar was precisely positioned by my side. Carefully, I opened the glass container holding the cocaine crystals.
With firm but controlled movements, I poured a moderate amount of the crystals into the mortar. The sound of the hard pieces hitting the metallic container lightly echoed through the room. I gripped the lever with determination and began to turn it. The gear squeaked softly as the crystals started to shatter. The refining process was almost hypnotic, the rhythmic application of force transforming the crystals into a fine, homogeneous powder.
After a few minutes of consistent work, the powder was ready. I opened the mortar and observed the interior carefully. There it was: a vibrant, brilliant white powder, with a purity I hadn't expected. "This is… surprising," I murmured to myself, holding some of the powder between my fingers. The texture was perfect, and the shimmer reflected exceptional quality.
