Rotten Fruit in the Rain
Rotten Fruit in the Rain The bell above the door rang at 11:47 PM on a Tuesday, and I was standing behind the counter sorting out a box of navel oranges that had arrived slightly smaller than the label claimed. The shop was quiet. It was always quiet at this hour -- the kind of quiet that settles over a place like dust, layer by layer, until you forget what it sounded like before. Then the...
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