The avocado is the vagina of foods. A slick-rich treat of green heaven. A green world waiting for the tongue. It also waits for the toast.
The toast. That square gluten bed of arousal. Day mattress where the knife spreads the green.
Sophie had been single for so long that yes, she now ascribed sexual meaning to her food. Her olive salad as a bed of eyes waiting for her to undress. Her carrots were tall orange strangers that made her faint.
Tonight, yes tonight, she would have rib-eye steak. Near the bone, the fat sopped up the juices.
The above is for the Carrot Ranch Community weekly flash fiction challenge. November 12 2020, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes avocado toast. How can this be a story or a prop to a story? Use your senses and imagination. Go where the prompt leads!