When Eve took the apple from the tree, after the serpent told her to, on that first bite, didn't she think to herself, this should have been a radish, or perhaps raw ginger, to better reflect the sour gravity of the situation? Apples are far too sweet, too tasty, too succulent, to refreshing to be part of such a calamity. The snake smiles and slithers away, perhaps thinking of oranges and lemons. Oh no you don't, thought Eve, why not bring me sour grapes instead? She threw the apple up to the Gods who held it, waiting centuries to drop it and hit Newton on the head.
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Soaking up the rain and whipping spit of the waves, as he stood next to the ocean of my memory, a fire hydrant in a red windbreaker, glaring...
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"Well...that was dramatic." I didn't know what he meant until I saw the ink spilled everywhere and the moths in her hair like ...