A Tempting Crimson Sphere

I scrambled up the kitchen chair and perched right on the edge of the granite counter. There it was—a bowl piled high with fresh fruit, and resting at the very top, a remarkably glossy red apple. It was almost larger than my torso. I leaned forward, tapping its smooth, taut skin with one clawed finger. The hollow, crisp thud it made was pure music. I gave it a gentle nudge, watching it wobble dangerously near the rim of the wicker bowl. Heh, human breakfast rituals certainly have their highlights.