Velvet Stain

Leaving the parlor’s hush, I walked past the terrace gate into the shadowed courtyard arbor. Clinging to the stone trellis hung a cluster of dark, overripe wild berries, gleaming like polished jet. Curious to test their hidden essence, I plucked a single taut fruit and set it upon a pale, flat limestone tile. Bracing my boots against the mossy flags, I brought the heavy base of my metal goblet down with slow, decisive pressure. The skin ruptured with a crisp pop, yielding a dense, velvety pool of imperial violet. Using the snapped stem as a stylus, I drew a crisp stroke across the stone—a rich, unyielding pigment worthy of future inscriptions.