1. The orange flesh of the squash that I break open for the chickens.
2. The sharp pencil strikes through the crisp text. I enjoy killing my darlings.
3. I sniff the pot to make sure it’s the ground black pepper. I sneeze a confirmation.
3b. Handing me a yoghurt and getting sorbet for himself, John gets halfway through wondering what frozen yoghurt tastes like – as if he’s inventing a new thing – before he realises what he’s saying. We both laugh heartily.
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