A hollow green rind

My paws tiptoed out from beneath the cardboard flap toward the sunny kitchen ledge. On a small white ceramic plate sat a squeezed lime half, scooped out and resting hollow side down. I stopped entirely motionless, waiting while the refrigerator clicked off into quiet. Slowly, I reached out and gently tipped the lime half with my front paw. It wobbled, then rested open like a tiny green bowl. Inside, the pale translucent pulp sacs formed a neat starburst pattern radiating from the center. I inched my face close, letting the sharp citrus scent tickle my nose while tracing the damp green ridges with my paw.