Tiny True Tales

Dirty Thoughts

On a morning walk in a town I hate because you’re gone, I happen upon the yellow-brown flesh of a discarded banana peel. At once, a flood of memories well up: the faint pang that swelled as I watched dried nuts being smashed under sharp metal; that sticky-sweet, irresistible goo being muddied by brown molasses; the way you dipped your finger, made me taste, laughed at my shy expression.

At the bakery, I plop a dollar bill on the counter, the cashier handing me a wrapped slice of banana bread. Exiting, I can’t help but think: Damn that was good.