Dragon Fruits

Emberly did not simply arrive—she descended. The adoption box opened and out tumbled a woolly burst of pink and green, tiny scales gleaming under the kitchen light. She struck a pose immediately, one felt arm extended, and declared (in the kind of silence only a felted fruit can manage): “Behold! Your guardian has arrived.” She was adopted by Marco, a high school art teacher with a fondness for eccentric decor. Emberly quickly claimed the pantry as her castle. Perched on a jar of peanut butter, she surveys the shelves like a dragon hoarding snacks. Anyone reaching for crackers without acknowledging her first receives an intense woolly glare. Emberly insists on “roar practice” every evening, which mostly involves puffing up dramatically and squeaking like a deflating balloon. Marco claps every time. Emberly demands it. She also requires “stage lighting” (a small desk lamp aimed at her scales) for daily preening sessions. Despite her dramatics, Emberly is deeply protective. When Marco came home exhausted one night, she rolled herself into his hoodie pocket and refused to leave until he laughed. She may claim she’s guarding him from pantry raiders, but the truth is—she’s just a big softie. A softie with claws. Imaginary ones. Her favorite pastime is photobombing. She somehow sneaks into every picture Marco takes in the kitchen, perched regally in the background. Visitors ask if she’s “part of the theme.” Marco just says, “No, that’s Emberly. She lives here.”