Grapefruit.

I stand over the kitchen counter peeling a grapefruit. There are so many other things I should be doing, but there is something satisfying about peeling a fruit. It's not like preparing other foods. It's natural and simple, and it's something I can succeed at. After the dexterous work, there is a mine of pretty gems densely packed in a neat little case, plump with sweet juice. So cold, so quenching. No thinking involved, except on my terms.


I am a lonely girl on a tropical desert island, and the fruit trees are my only friends.

I am a poor farm girl in a rich kingdom, laboring through all the hours of daylight picking fruits just to keep living.

I am the princess of the great gruit-filled kingdom, but I am sheltered by my father, never free to experience the true richness of the land. I eat a solitary breakfast of grapefruit and toast and long to trade places with the farm girl, willing her to know that sitting by yourself in an exquisite palace is not as fun as it's made to sound.

I am an average college student looking for an escape from her own head.

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First attempt. Not great, took much longer than necessary, but it's done. Once a week may not sound like a lot, but it really is for me. At least I was inspired by something, right?