I recently returned to the United States after living in London for a time. This story is loosely based off an experience I had on one of my travels during that time. I hope you enjoy it.
Strawberries
by T. S. Ash
I bought the strawberry to my mouth, and juice ran down my chin as I bit into the plump, red fruit. It was a hot day, but the carton of strawberries I’d bought had me feeling fine. Besides, I was excited to explore Paris, which everyone had always told me was the most beautiful city in the world. I clutched the plastic carton and leaned against the wall of the train as it pulled to a stop. A cute girl got on and smiled at my strawberries. “Voulez- vous un fraise?” I said, hoping I had just offered her a strawberry. She blushed and shook her golden curls.
Exiting the train, I walked up the stairs and past a building covered in graffiti. I ate another strawberry and thought about how old and beautiful the buildings here were, and how this one had stood for centuries only to end up with French profanities spraypainted across its face.
Among the trash on the sidewalk sat a beggar with an empty cup and sweat beading on his dark forehead. He looked up at my strawberries. I thought it was rude to eat something so delicious in front of him, so I held out the carton. He eagerly grabbed several of the biggest ones and smiled at me with perfectly white teeth. Continue reading
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