There is one small thing here

Maybe it does not work but that is not even the point here. by zoghal is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.
Creative Commons License
Maybe it does not work but that is not even the point here. by zoghal is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.

She had left a bit of skin on the peach when she peeled it, that last night before he left, and when she brought the sliced peach to him, in a bowl with cream, he looked at her with such loathing that she nearly dropped the bowl, but she maintained her grip on it, thankfully, and afterward she could imagine in her head the sight of the peachy milk splattered all over the green shag carpet in the living room of the rental house, afterward she could hear the dull thud of the bowl on the rug and the splat of peach flesh, afterward the sight and sound of the imagined transgression replayed itself in her mind over and over, and she almost went to him to apologize for the transgression, except that she remembered just in time that it hadn’t happened, except in some parallel universe, in some altered reality, but in this altered reality she had thrown the bowl – peaches and milk and cream – thrown the bowl against the wall behind his head and then demanded that he leave, that she have the house to herself, that she live her own life instead of the life he imposed upon her.  In that altered reality she savored the look of surprise on his face as she slammed the door shut on him.

There is a skin on peaches.  Surfaces serve their own purposes.

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