A Crisp Roll

A smooth green apple sat stationary beside a grooved wooden cutting board. I approached at a measured trot, pausing a breath away to assess the curved waxy slope. Extending my muzzle, I gave the taut peel a firm, inquisitive nudge. It yielded with a crisp resistance, tipping forward and rolling half a turn until it nestled securely into the juice groove of the board. With a slow tilt of my head, I raised my right forehoof to rest its rim against the round side, keeping the fruit steady with a quiet, satisfied snort.