100 Words a Day 1200

Morg peeled the prickly skin from the fruit with his knife, as he had seen Faraj do. Underneath, the meat of the fruit was bright red. As he handled the fruit, its cool, sticky juice covered his hand. The first bite was unlike anything he’d ever eaten. The flesh of the fruit seemed to dissolve as he bit into it, releasing more of its sugary juice. It left a cool trail down his throat when he swallowed it, giving him some small relief from the desert heat.

“It’s good, eh?” Faraj asked.

Morg nodded, sucking the juice from his fingers.