The fluorescent light glare catches the waxy skin of the single orange, making it shine against the rough cardboard crate edges. It sits slightly off-center, a perfect, unblemished sphere that seems to have lost its stem entirely. A faint dusting of soil rests near the counter's lip, a small, earthy trace that contrasts with the bright, clean plastic of the display bin. A hand, wearing a thin rubber glove, reaches into the bin from the side, nudging the orange until it settles precisely at the front edge. This movement is repeated, a quiet adjustment designed to make the display look full and abundant. The worker never looks at the orange, only at the empty space beside it, ensuring the perfect visual weight. It is a small, necessary choreography, performed in the late morning quiet before the rush begins.
hush · calm