If I were an apple, what would you use (how would you undo me?) to reveal me? A paring knife passing just under the skin with surgical precision?
Or the domestic peeler, an obvious choice, with the ergonomic grip handle just marking the surface leaving small red lines against white flesh; leaving strappy fringe scattered on the counter.
Maybe the sections of the tin corer would segment me, my limbs from the center of pith and seeds.
But what if I were wrapped in brown translucent paper? Day-Glo verde (vermillion) shoots sprouting from the bulb. The chef’s knife cuts in two the cellulous layers of an onion. Who would cry? Me or You?