Four Apples
Scene: A Farmers Market in Denver. It’s a warm September Sunday morning and a young, attractive couple is walking with their toddler daughter who appears to be about two years of age. The wife is holding the little girl in her arms. She, the wife, is very pretty. She wears a jade green summer dress that contrasts nicely with her tan skin and dark, ponytailed hair. This is what I notice first. And then, my eyes dart to the husband, who says in a low yet urgent, pissed-off voice, “But why can’t we get some more apples?”
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