I don’t think I’ve ever been this excited about a tale at the outset. 800 words in, but a taste:
On a Sunday morning five years ago, Flora was standing in front of a fruit vendor at the farmer’s market, comparing the quality of two mangoes. The saleswoman had eagerly held one in each hand as she spoke through a smile.
“These are in peak season, you should just get both!
She knew that she’d made a decision about the mangoes, she could see their oily red and yellow blush, she could still feel her mouth beginning to form words, but she could not recall her response. What she did remember was the woman’s face melting as the scene unfolded behind her – Julio, falling like a great tree in a teeming wood. His arms flailing and reaching like a toddler whose object of desire was just out of grasp. The market crowd opening into a wide circle around him, then closing as the young and capable rushed to assist. Flora thought they looked like pigeons scattered in a town square. She knelt beside him and slid her fingers between his, convinced this would be last time she would feel the warmth of his touch.