Blueberry

I was making a smoothie this morning. Spinach, banana, pear, blackberries, blueberries…well, you know what a smoothie is.

The blueberries were from the ones we’d picked and froze earlier this year. Opening the container lets out a burst of early summer scents.

I tipped the berries into a measuring cup. One berry remained in the original container. I tried shaking it out. Shouting, “Resist,” it hung on. I shook harder.

That didn’t help.

Resigned to using my fingers, I plucked it out. “For your reward, I’ll eat you alone.” He said nothing back. I popped him in my mouth.

He was a little bitter.

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