“The core of every fruit is better than its rind,” Mike read aloud before placing his book on the hotel bed and retrieving an orange from the extravagant fruit basket.
Laura squinted at the title of the poem he was reading -“Precious Core,” by Rumi. Room service had just delivered a tray of oysters on the balcony. They sat down for a bite and to people watch. The world seemed so peaceful from this height. So sane.
“You think the core of humans is soft or chewy,” she asked, peering down at the crowds below. “Perhaps they’re a bit gooey like these oysters?”
Mike laughed, then his face grew serious. Some people are hard to crack. It’s okay if you cry.
The visiting angel shook her head. “No! I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.“
Today, Lisa hosts dVerse Prosery where we write a short prose piece of no more than 144 words and include the quote: No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife. (We are allowed to change punctuation only) This quote is from “How does it feel to be Colored Me,” in World Tomorrow (1928) by Zora Neale Hurston.