Della and the Spoon Tunnel — The last peachy bite sat in Della’s bowl, warm and sweet-smelling, but her spoon made a clink instead of a scoop. Read the full story →
The last peachy bite sat in Della’s bowl, warm and sweet-smelling, but her spoon made a clink instead of a scoop. Something had tugged the purée down through a crack by the tray hinge. Della leaned from her safe, tall seat until her toes brushed the cool footrest. “Mm?” she said, and poked her spoon under the tray.
A tiny orange trail shone there, dotted with crumbs like little moons. Della gave up one ribbon from her bib when it snagged on the chair, but she kept reaching. Tap, scrape, hush—the spoon found a narrow tunnel no grown-up had wiped. Inside lay the missing bite, plus a secret row of dried peas, stars, and one shiny button from breakfast days before.
Della scooped the peachy bite back, but she brought the button too, holding it up like treasure from a hidden cave. The kitchen smelled of fruit and toast, and curiosity buzzed in her cheeks. If you peek beneath the tray next time, the tiny orange trail might still lead to the last peachy bite.
