Securing the Red Sphere

Stepped off the threshold and marched back into the interior. The kitchen island stood wide and silent. I scaled the timber cabinet handle by handle until my knuckles gripped the smooth granite ledge. Ahead sat a massive oak fruit bowl. Inside, a dense red apple had rolled to the rim, tilting ready to plunge off the high bluff. Unacceptable wobble. I planted my bare feet against the carved bowl lip, clamped both hands around the heavy, waxy sphere, and heaved. Dead weight yielded. I rolled the solid red orb into the bowl's deep center concavity until it locked motionless between two thick lemons. Ground fortified. No collapse. bobbing for apples