A Refined Forage

I slipped out through the cracked porch door, trotted down the timber steps, and jogged along the brick pathway into the neighborhood park. Staying indoors is fine for chin-ups, but an elite fighter needs open air. Near the edge of the stone flowerbed, I spotted a low cluster of ripe wild berries. I harvested the plumpest one, carried it over to a broad leaf cupping a puddle of clean morning dew, and rinsed off every speck of garden dust. An immaculate warrior doesn't eat gritty fruit. Leaning back against a warm, sunlit river stone, I took a crisp, sweet bite. Absolute perfection.