An underdeveloped butterfly flailed on my porch mat. With only two legs and brown, shriveled wings, it would not last long.
I took it with me to look for a box. Rolling it onto a paper towel, it rested while I did some research.
Supposedly, males like cherries, and that’s what I had. I peeled away the skin to remove the pesticides before offering the red flesh.
It thrashed away from the fruit.
I remembered an overripe banana in the compost bin. I retrieved it and held out a chunk of juicy mush.
She stilled and began to sip.
I took it with me to look for a box. Rolling it onto a paper towel, it rested while I did some research.
Supposedly, males like cherries, and that’s what I had. I peeled away the skin to remove the pesticides before offering the red flesh.
It thrashed away from the fruit.
I remembered an overripe banana in the compost bin. I retrieved it and held out a chunk of juicy mush.
She stilled and began to sip.
