Apple

Elise just got out of bed, came to me in the living room and said, "I want a snack. I can either have an apple or grapes," she gestured seriously with her small hands, brown eyes big, serious. "Which one should I have?"

We decided on an apple.

I helped her pick one out, small and deep red from the crisper drawer in the fridge.

Elise doesn't like eating the skin. Slowly, I peeled back the red, leathery skin, revealing the tart-looking green fruit glistening underneath. My mouth watered. And she looked up at me with those big brown eyes again and said, "Girls stink like blossoms," and took the peeled apple and went silently back to bed.