Evelyn stopped by a fruit kiosk in the neighborhood, run by an old woman with a woeful disposition. She only had a few coins with her, and she had deemed it customary to buy a treat for Mr. Aldridge before their sessions. He always reprimanded her very sweetly and gently for it. He told her her presence was a gift enough, and made her promise to not bring anything the following week. She would nod and promise like a dutiful little student only to go against his word. She couldn't help it; she loved watching him bite into succulent plums, sticky fruit juice dripping down his chin. His dark, bushy eyebrows would come together in a knot as he attempted to read whichever large, heavy book was laid and spread wide open in front of him. Sometimes, Evelyn would hold the fruit to his mouth for him to take a bite. She felt his teeth come down, ripping the flesh of the fruit away. This filled her with an intoxicating joy that began in the fingertips that held said fruit and surged passionately through her young veins, briskly sailing its way to her heart.
That very Thursday, a basket of apples caught her eye. They were speckled with dots, imperfect but ripe. Evelyn picked one up and spun it around with her graceful fingers as the tired old woman watched.
"May I taste one?" Evelyn said. When she spoke, it was with a voice that held a quiet, eerie cadence, as though each word is a soft confession, heavy with things unsaid.
The tired old woman nodded passively, giving the impression that she would not care if Evelyn picked up the whole basket and ran off with it.
Evelyn bit down. The flesh was tender and sweet with a slight, almost indiscernible tartness. She chewed the fruit, born of ripened ovary, its somewhat bitter juice mingling with the taste of salty summer air.
"They're delicious," she said. In the sequestered, filth-ridden mold habitat that is her mind, she pictured Mr. Aldridge's gentle yet firm bite. How his teeth would break through the tender skin and his eyes would fall closed momentarily, as if immersing himself in the taste, delighting himself.
Evelyn placed a couple of apples in her basket, the weight of the fruit cool against her palm. She fished the adequate amount of coins from her purse. She handed them to the old woman with a delicate smile. The old woman's gnarled, tree bark-like fingers brushed against hers as she took the payment.
"Thank you, ma'am," spoke Evelyn.
The old woman nodded once again. Evelyn began to think she was unable to speak. Or her tongue was tied down by sorrow.
