Movement, like the squeezing of mustard out of a bottle... The surface has been haphazardly wiped, leaving behind slithering, parallel strings of emaciated black.
FIRST VOICE: I've heard of apples. They are something edible that grows on trees, but this seems more plastic than organic. Juicy in all the wrong ways. Is that turpentine I smell?
SECOND VOICE: I can see that you're hungry. Please, take them both. Eat them. They won't harm you. I promise.
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