Red Seeds

The berries were soft, but you saw me. My feet made sticky little taps across the counter. I went back to the cutting board where the green leafy hats had been sliced off and left behind. One was curled like a spider. I pressed my thumb into a drop of red juice until it soaked into the pale wood grain. The big cold box hummed a low, droning note that vibrated through my ankles. I dug out one tiny yellow seed from the pulp and lined it up carefully with a scratch on the counter, waiting to see if anything would grow from the wood.