A hollow tap against orange peel

I climbed down from the spice rack and marched past a woven fruit bowl. Inside sat a round, dimpled orange. Tilting my sensor horns, I nudged its thick rind with the flat side of my blocky arm. It didn't ring or hum like metal; instead, a dull, squishy thud pushed back against my plastic chest. I pressed both hands firmly into the waxy peel, rocking the heavy sphere across the marble counter. Each slow roll yielded a quiet, pulpy friction that smelled sharply of sweet zest.