A Chilled Green Globe

I carefully made my way onto the low kitchen bench, following a cool afternoon draft over to the edge of the smooth countertop. Resting right beside an open wicker basket, a single green grape had rolled away and stopped on the cold laminate. It was so plump, smooth, and delightfully chilled. I took a polite little breath, leaned in, and nudged it with the very tip of my beak. It rolled in a slow, silent circle before bumping gently into the base of a porcelain butter dish, leaving a tiny, shiny mist mark behind. Resting my flipper against its firm, cold skin felt wonderfully refreshing.