Peaches

I grab a peach from the yellow bowl in the center of the table. Wood scrapes on wood as I pull a sharp knife out of the kitchen drawer. 

I hold the plump peach in my hand as I drag the cold knife into its flesh, juice dripping down my arm onto the floor.

I am so famished, I grab another one. Another, and another until I am covered in sticky juice.

I wash my hands in the sink with fragrant lemon soap. I clean the juice off of the floor.

The missing fruit the only evidence of my hunger.

The End