I was so hopeful when I found you. You were just one of a pile and I arbitrarily picked you out, with two other apples, and put you in those wasteful plastic bags they have on a roll next to the fruit. Last time I got apples from that store it had renewed my faith in store-bought apples. But you, oh, you.
I washed you carefully, dried you and polished you until you were just a little shiny. Then I bit into you. You were juicy, I will give you that. It wasn't really juice though, was it? It tasted like water. You were bland, apple. You were unappealing.
Forget you, apple.
