The Lime of Symmetry
I placed the steak knife on the marble counter and admired my work. Two lime halves rested on their rinds, facing the kitchen ceiling like up-turned turtles. Their pulpy matter glistened in the eastern sunlight.
“Ah, the perfect lime of symmetry,” I said, proceeding to the kitchen table with a butcher knife in hand.
“They say that the two halves in your skull will divide just as precisely,” I murmured shortly before smothering my dinner guest’s beautiful face with a rag.
Dabbing the gray matter of its red profusions, I arranged the four halves in a fruit bowl at the center of my mahogany table, admiring the art of my culinary lines.