A Heavy Roll

A round red apple rested on the kitchen floorboards by the pantry door. I paused. The skin was glossy, smooth, and cool in the morning light. I walked straight up to it. Going around felt unnecessary. I lowered my snout, braced my plush tail flat on the varnish, and shoved against its curved side with steady weight. It was heavy. I pressed again, digging my claws in. The apple gave way with a deep, wooden rumble, rolling slowly forward until it came to rest against the cabinet base. I tapped the polished peel once with my right claw. It stayed firmly in the quiet shadow.