He held the Granny Smith apple under the running water, rinsing away the soap. Wrapping it in the frayed towel, he placed it on the kitchen counter. He turned over the vegetable peeler–how long had it been?–before unwrapping the apple.
He pressed the blade against the skin and scraped awkwardly. Then it all came back to him in a rush. His frustration fell away as the peel came off in one long curled strand. He cut even pieces, casting aside only the seeds.
The warped frying pan gleamed from his scrubbing. The butter melted as he carefully arranged the slices before sprinkling sugar and cinnamon.
He covered the card table with the faded checked tablecloth and clicked off the transistor radio. He held the candle wick to the burner until it caught.
In the candlelight he marvelled at it all. Fresh apple, sugar, cinnamon, his own kitchen. His own. He breathed deeply and the scent of cinnamon…the scent of cinnamon. A warmth, something so close and yet out of reach.
“Maybe I can make it on the outside,” he thought, before he could stop himself.
Beautifully written!
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Thank you so much, Opher!
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That’s a thinker. Great write.
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Thanks, Richard! Very much appreciated.
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Welcome 🙂
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Subtle … but forceful … an excellent read … very, very well done!
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Thank you, G! That means a lot to me.
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Ms Danica, I think your written words become keener and more expressive with each missive. Much like fine wine, I do savor them to no end. Thank you for today’s smile.
g
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Thanks so much for the wonderful compliment, G! I’ve been trying to improve my writing and I’m absolutely delighted that you’re enjoying the results. Thank you for making me smile as well.
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This had me reminiscing and eondering. . . Was this a widower missing his wife? Was this someone who was expecting company? Such a lovely short story, Danica. All sorts of senses felt. 🙂 Robin
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Robin, I really like this story as a widower missing his wife! Someone expecting company is also quite lovely. My idea behind it was someone released on parole after a long prison sentence. Thanks so much Robin, I’m delighted that all sorts of senses were felt :).
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I like the “author’s interpretation” (yours) best. A man facing parole and escape, being released back into society, makes sense. I am glad you didn’t mind my guessing, Danica. 🙂
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I’m delighted that you had your own interpretation, Robin! I came across a quote to the effect that poetry belongs to everyone; that when a poet writes a poem and puts it out in the world, that it is no longer his/hers but belongs to everyone who reads it. I absolutely love this idea and believe that it’s true, not just of poetry but all art forms.
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I sense loneliness along with the fresh scent from the pan.
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Frank, you picked up on that! Yes, his solitude echoed through the story for me.
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“He pressed the blade against the skin and pressed awkwardly.”
This leads me to believe that his crime had a knife scraping against skin. Perhaps against his estanged wife, who wore a cinammon scented perfume.
Your writing leads me in all kinds if directions of thought.
Will you be expanding on if he does make it in future posts?
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Oh, I like it! I’ve been considering expanding on some of these short stories. I must say, you’ve done a great job on it already!
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I like your writing. You especially have a way of driving home an image &/or message in a few words!
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Resa, I’m thrilled that you like my writing. Thank you so much for the wonderful compliment!
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