From Many, One
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Another written experiment for you:
Within a full state college graduating class of orchard products, misted lightly and displayed by the world’s largest supermarket, sits the perfect apple.
It is an apple without pretense, unshined by fake wax and unmarred by time. You might think it was perfectly red, like many of those around it, but no. This apple has just the slightest blush of green, its face marred by enough imperfection as to make it flawless.
Its curves are as smooth and alluring as a supermodel’s are not. It stands on its end with determination as its cohort is strewn about by rushed mothers and the children who rush them. The perfect apple watches its friends and brothers spill to a linoleum ground that is too far from the tree. They will never take root in this place.
Its siblings sell by the dozens and the pounds, but the perfect apple remains unsold, its perfection reflected in its cost. Everyone wants to buy it, everyone thinks to buy it, but none do. They all go for the step down, the affordable brother apple.
The perfect apple is, you see, organic.
