turps

"Hey Mikey," Pete whispered in the cool quiet dark night, and Mikey shivered a bit as he woke up. "Mikey."

"What?" Mikey whispered back. The other carrots drowsed around them, leafy tops slightly drooped. Mikey let the breeze blow his greens over Pete's, felt Pete's leaves touch his back.

"Can you feel that?" Pete said, and suddenly Mikey could: the thinnest, faintest touch brushing up against on his long skinny taproot, hair-thin and delicate.

"Yes," he said, not knowing what else to say, and Pete rustled a little awkwardly.

"It started growing that way all on it's own," he said, a touch defensively, "I didn't mean to. I'm not into that sort of thing. I keep my roots to myself."

"It's okay," Mikey said, and was a little surprised to discover it really was.