Cracking the Seam

Squeezed back inside through the screen door to beat the night chill. Down by the foot of the coffee table, I found an unshelled English walnut rolled against the baseboard. Heavy, rough wood grain on that shell. A fella with fists like mine can turn good walnut meat into powder if he gets reckless. Grunted, knelt down on the floorboards, and cradled the nut against the flat of my palm. I lined up the center seam right between two heavy knuckles and leaned in with slow, steady pressure. Snap. The woody hull split dead clean down the ridge into two neat halves without mashing a single piece inside. Scooped the nutmeat free, set the empty half-shells upright like little bowls, and leaned back against the table leg to enjoy the quiet.