retching tender_square the fruit half-way rotted because i'd left it on the counter two days too long. it was given to me by a co-worker who also loves to bake. "you'll be making zucchini bread forever," she warned as she swaddling the 10-pound squash into my arms. i drew and quartered the green flesh with a turquoise butcher knife. the top half remained firm. the bottom buckled and bled; the decomposition of innards left me heaving. i thought more could be saved and so i kept slicing. the scent worsened as did the scene of decay. i reached for a covid mask so i could breathe again and retched violently as i slipped grey disks into the trash, slid the juice off the cutting board. i held the bag at arms length as i went down the outside steps. there was nothing inside me that sloshed and spilled out. 230811 what's it to you? who go blather from