three consecutive apricots.

I just want to revel in apricots right now.

Today at the grocery store I noticed apricots sitting demurely in a small basket at the end of one of the produce aisles and I couldn't help exclaiming to my friends, "Apricots! I forgot they existed!" and it was true, I had forgotten they existed, so their re-entry into my life is a whimsical and sort of miraculous event. What a thing, to forget that something exists and then for it to be reinvented by its accidental re-collision into your life.

I bought four and just ate three. I couldn't get the endings right on two of those three apricots, dammit. Either the last bite was the best or the worst. In the case of the former, you need more to continue to orgasm of the apricot's death; in the case of the latter, you need to compensate by eating another. That inner flesh, right against the pit, it's tricky but sweet.

The last awestruck event involving apricots this evening: About an hour ago, I learned that apricots have been hiding secret rooms from me all these years. Sasha told me about the seed inside the apricot pit, how it's edible and delicious. I wanted to ask how it was delicious after the subject had passed, but I'm glad I didn't, I want to be surprised. It's like those dreams I have of familiar places, knocking on walls and finding a hollow space, an entire room, or series of rooms, then waking and living my life in these places that hold rooms that only I carry with me.

I want to eat that last apricot, but even more, I want to give it away.