I was a surprise baby, slipped into the kitchen counter nestled in some paper that crackled under the weight of us. A machine milking something dark and bitter rumbled a greeting. It had been morning for awhile now, but the people were still waking up. How good of the hands that brought us here, I thought, to make us fruits of the happiest time of day. To be still-warm with sleep and sunshine dribbling from the window. I rolled a little against the basket when she blew in, haste practiced and used to taking up space. Her sandals hushed against the carpet as she noticed my intrusion. I shivered a bit under her gaze. The shock of chilled fingers against my skin was swept quickly away at the comfort of being held. I'd traveled a long way to meet her lips, but such makes the moment of finding myself home all the sweeter.
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