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Stepping backwards into third person
Jun. 26th, 2004 01:04 pmThe cream wasn't spoiled, as she thought it might have been, hiding behind the cheese and the pickles for who knows how long.
It was good though, and turned her tea pale in a way that reminded her it was mostly water.
Every third stall at the Farmer's Market seems to be selling berries, so after the carrots and the broccoli (raab, because she hasn't gone for Dim Sum in too long) she buys a half flat. Tayberries, she calls back to the signature gatherers lurking outside the Market, not raspberries. She bought them because they were a few dollars cheaper, and a mix between blackberries and raspberries.
She eats them one by one as she reads her book on the bus home. She wishes for July, and the sweet, dusty scent of ripe blackberries along the trail.
The cream dulls the berries' bright garnet color, creeps into the crevices and lingers. Here and there, the stain of pink creeps into the cream.
It was good though, and turned her tea pale in a way that reminded her it was mostly water.
Every third stall at the Farmer's Market seems to be selling berries, so after the carrots and the broccoli (raab, because she hasn't gone for Dim Sum in too long) she buys a half flat. Tayberries, she calls back to the signature gatherers lurking outside the Market, not raspberries. She bought them because they were a few dollars cheaper, and a mix between blackberries and raspberries.
She eats them one by one as she reads her book on the bus home. She wishes for July, and the sweet, dusty scent of ripe blackberries along the trail.
The cream dulls the berries' bright garnet color, creeps into the crevices and lingers. Here and there, the stain of pink creeps into the cream.
