Operation Stray Apple

Midday heat calls for emergency field rations, and my stomach demanded immediate compliance. Patrolling near the patio flagstones, I spotted a round green crabapple stranded under the low rungs of a metal bench. It was rolled deep into a cobwebbed corner—completely out of line. I dropped flat on my belly, wedged my long arms past the iron legs, and hooked my yellow fingers around its smooth skin. The stubborn fruit tried to slip away against the rough stone, but I dragged it into open sunlight. One solid crunch, tart and crisp, settled the score. Perimeter fed and secured.