The banana sat on the shelf, decomposing.
It had been in a state of decomposition since it was first picked from the tree that was its home. It might, arguably, have been decomposing before that, though it was up to the pedants to hash that out.
Now, though, it was most definitely decomposing. The peel was mostly black, only a few streaks of yellow struggling to hold on. Inside, the banana was still edible, if rather mushy. It was ready to break down, and if it had any seeds, they would be preparing to germinate a new banana tree. It didn’t, though, so its decomposition was largely symbolic.
The shelf on which the decomposing banana sat was high up, away from the floor and the pests that the banana drew. It was metal, hard, and basic in a purely functional sort of way.
Having been left on Friday, then in good shape, the people would be surprised to find a now seemingly inedible banana. But such was the world of bananas, if the people were honest with themselves; yellow today, brown tomorrow. One needs to be quick with the sweeter fruits.
A fruit fly landed on the banana, preparing its new breeding ground. In a few days, the banana would be discarded, but for now, it would remain, drawing pests and making a nuisance of itself, doing just what it was intended to do.