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Apple number 7 was sitting on my desk taunting me for most of the morning and afternoon. I think I could hear it whispering “Come here ’til I hit ya.” I finally ate it while reading about corporate policies and restrictions and while I worried that the plant in my cubicle wasn’t going to last another week. No sun in this dungeon. I’m taking him home today. Number 7 was a very tart and harsh Granny Smith. The skin smelled like tree bark and was nearly as tough. The interior seemed to be biting me back. I’m going back to Fujis for a while.

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