…the melons, Florida grown, look good, but there are too many theories:
soft ends, hard ends, rough skin, smooth skin ….
“I haven’t tried one, yet” the fruit stocker says.
“I just don’t know,” I tell him.
“Here, I’ll cut one,” and he pulls out a sharp six-inch knife, takes a melon and cuts a wedge.
“Try it.”
I do. It is sweet, the seeds tiny in the pale orange.
“Hey, thanks. Get it to the back. Don’t waste it. It is too good to throw away, and the store has plenty of money.”
“I will” and he wipes off the blade, and carries the melon to the stock room.
I buy a melon.
I liked his knife.
I liked him.
And a woman came around the corner, wearing a billowing purple dress and went to the cherries.
She smiled.
I smiled back.
The melon cutter as still in the back, cutting more wedges, I hope.
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, early July 2011
