A Clean Split

I knelt on my corduroy footstool to check on the green chestnut bur resting beside the river pebble. In the dry indoor air overnight, its stiff spiky coat had shrunk and split down the seam like a tiny wooden treasure box. Deep inside the prickly gap, a glossy mahogany shell gleamed in the morning beam. Not wanting to prick my paws against the spines, I fetched two flat wooden craft sticks from the console drawer. Using them like gentle levers, I guided the spiky halves apart with steady, patient pressure. The smooth chestnut popped clean out of its bristly husk, coming to rest with a soft click against the cool stone.