A Tangy Discovery

A faint, tangy aroma drifted across the kitchen floor. Pickle tapped three rapid thumps on my shell, his little nose pointing toward the sunny space beneath the breakfast table. We shifted straight into top turtle speed, feet pattering in a swift rhythm across the smooth linoleum. Resting right on a fallen scrap of wax paper was a crisp, ridged pickle slice, speckled with dill and glistening with cool beads of brine. I pulled up right beside the paper edge. Pickle leaned all the way down over my brow, taking an eager little nibble. The sour crunch echoed softly, and his tail gave a delighted wiggle.