Her family tree was enough to disqualify her for the job. Then again, who was better qualified than she?
She was given the same implements to innocently slice strawberries that her father, brother, and mother all used for… other purposes.
After picking dew-laden strawberries under the brightening sky, she was set to the task of slicing them to be used in desserts. As she cut off the green stems and any blemishes, she thought of her once-whole family. Slicing the berries into chunks, she thought of the crimes that pulled them apart, the reason she had to flee to this strange place. Everyone in her small hometown knew what happened to disgrace her family tree.
She slid the freshly cubed strawberries into a bowl, leaving behind a streak of light red juice. She cringed; she knew why her family had done time, why did the strawberries need to mock her?
The task was monotonous, but she didn’t care. The labor relieved any stress. The knife wouldn’t tempt her away from her strawberries.