Nectarine

While she finished filling the pillbox, snapping shut the little doors from Sunday to Saturday, the fruit, in a bowl on the counter, caught her attention. Birg was transfixed by the single nectarine nestled in the bottom of the bowl, domineered by the apple resting on top. The nectarine, she considered the nectarine was named by a man who was in love with it.. As this thought scrolled through her head she knew that it must be true, even though it was a vague and wishing thought. She associated the word nectar with ‘nectar of the gods’ and so hailed it as the utmost in juices. In her head she illustrated an old man at a small wooden table methodically eating the new fruit that he had raised and announcing to himself “I’ll call it the nectarine, for it’s flesh is fit for the gods.”