New York City was no place for an egg. There was always someone looking to crack your shell. There were those who meant you harm, like the birds and the hungry pedestrians, and there were those who simply didn’t notice a two-inch, well-camouflaged egg as they walked on the street. Shelby had done well for herself and had only been cracked once. It was a frightening experience for her, she had made the mistake of leaving the grocery store in which she lived and had been assaulted by a rock pigeon looking for an easy meal.

She had only rolled a few feet outside the store and was able to rush back inside when the pigeon arrived. As soon as she made it back through the sliding glass doors she knew she was safe. When the pigeon tried to enter it was quickly scared away by the store employee refilling the drink cooler at the entrance. Shelby escaped with only a minor crack at the top of her shell. When she made it back to the carton she was scolded by her mother and father.

“”You know this is exactly why we wanted you to get hard-boiled, you shouldn’t keep your insides so soft and vulnerable, and if you were hard-boiled you wouldn’t be such a target for the pigeons. Lord knows they prefer soft eggs.”” “”I admit that I was in danger, but I can’t change who I am inside, becoming bitter and hard-boiled, because I’m afraid of what’s out there.”” Shelby Replied. Her parents had both been hard-boiled when they were younger and they had lived risky lives for eggs. Rolling around outdoors enjoying the sunlight and ignoring the birds. Shelby was enamored by her parents but she couldn’t give away her innocence like that. She never wanted to become hard-boiled.

Shelby went for a roll around the grocery store to sort her thoughts out. It was after hours and there were only a few other products going for evening walks. She rolled around the frozen section, taking in the premade dinners in their deep slumber. She passed through the meat and dairy section wondering what life was like on the farm. This made her veer towards the organic section which always made her think of some rural utopia. There were facsimiles of many generic products in this section, always a bit pricier and sometimes with the attitude to prove it.

Shelby took in the deep scent of goat cheese soaps, natural body wash and wondered what the organic celery thought about the nonorganic celery. When she came to the organic refrigerator, her yoke skipped a beat when she saw a brown spotted egg lying on the floor below the cooler. Shelby tripled her rolling speed and made it to the egg’s side. “”What happened to you?”” The spotted egg replied in a weak voice “”A customer left my box open and I slipped out onto the floor”” “”I’m so sorry, let’s get you better, you’re leaking a bit of yoke!”” “”I know – I should’ve been hardboiled”” Shelby felt sorrowful as she realized this egg was under the same egg-society pressure as she was – made to feel guilty for staying soft on the inside.

Shelby nursed the spotted egg back to health over the next few days. She was able to convince her parents that she was networking with the organic eggs – something they lauded with exclamations of “”upper ward scrambility.”” In any case, she had the time she needed to tend the spotted egg back to health. On the morning of the fourth day, Shelby felt the egg was strong enough to speak with so she asked his name. “”Yokehan – thank you for saving me – I feel like I only validated what everyone was always saying about hard-boiling”” Shelby jumped on this “”No! I mean, it’s fine. You don’t have to be like them. They’re calloused, they’ve lost their inner softness”” She touched his shell to communicate that she supported him.

“”I – thank you – I’ve never met another egg that felt that way. But I suppose it’s to do with me never leaving the organic section. It can get a bit insular here.”” As Yokehan healed, Shelby had fewer excuses to come see him. Eventually, she dropped the pretense and asked him to be her partner. Shelby and Yokehan’s romance only took leaps and bounds from there. The days passed slowly until their expiration date. Enough time to fall in love and plan a way out of the grocery store. Yokehan expired first and waited patiently for Shelby under a wooden crate behind the grocery store. On the day when Shelby expired, she deftly found her way out of the trash can and into the same wooden crate. They settled down in a small cardboard box by the railroad tracks with a few of the city. Never hardboiled – always tender.