Apple was a little girl who collected bugs. She got a beetle for Christmas and let her gecko climb on my shoulder. I let her bring bugs in the classroom as long as she kept them contained, not a distraction, and didn’t scare the Chinese teacher with them. She called spiders “cute”. She’s changed her name. I wonder if she holds her childhood passion.
Emily’s mother had packed her a simple lunch for her first day of middle school — a peanut butter and jelly and an apple. Nothing bright or fancy like her classmates, whose parents sent them in with Bento boxes of sushi or charcuterie or tea sandwiches and big bags of all the best snacks.
The apple looked so delicious, I imagined how sweet it would taste and the feel of the crispness against my tongue was enticing. I bought it, but then when I had brought it home, washed it and let it rest in the fridge, I bit into it. It was old, and the taste was bland and it had a soft, mealy texture to it.
Apple was a little girl who collected bugs. She got a beetle for Christmas and let her gecko climb on my shoulder. I let her bring bugs in the classroom as long as she kept them contained, not a distraction, and didn’t scare the Chinese teacher with them. She called spiders “cute”. She’s changed her name. I wonder if she holds her childhood passion.
Emily’s mother had packed her a simple lunch for her first day of middle school — a peanut butter and jelly and an apple. Nothing bright or fancy like her classmates, whose parents sent them in with Bento boxes of sushi or charcuterie or tea sandwiches and big bags of all the best snacks.
The apple looked so delicious, I imagined how sweet it would taste and the feel of the crispness against my tongue was enticing. I bought it, but then when I had brought it home, washed it and let it rest in the fridge, I bit into it. It was old, and the taste was bland and it had a soft, mealy texture to it.