Happy Sunday! This is a 100-word flash. Let me know how the fantasy sits with you. Thanks for reading.
“Slice it, Canto,” the knife jiggled over the melon, an imperfect oval similar to his sister’s youthful face. Illuminated by one candle, the wobbly white rind acquired a cherubic aura.
“Say something first?” Canto felt the weight of the birch-wood chitarra shift against his back. This was, after all, mother’s last melon; she hadn’t survived February’s frost.
The knife split the rind to reveal matching halves of terracotta-colored flesh. Beneath nibbles and sniffles, black diamond tiles stretched; Antibes white marble arched overhead. Readying their instruments, the twins materialized mid-stage, the Sacred Music Festival about to begin, their dirge the opener.
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