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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
A moment from my childhood.

Submitted: September 01, 2014

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Submitted: September 01, 2014

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Worms. I hate worms. They occupy every single apple my mom brought home from the market. I pick at the apply, trying to find a piece free of these glittering, white, smarmy creatures. A bite here. A nibble there. I finally end my quest to procure a few morsels after a bout of spine-shivering spasms. I hate worms.

The apples are sweet. Not rotten. Just ripe enough to be tempting, but so full of holes they a revolting. I notice a pattern. The ones full of holes are sweeter, juicier. As if the worms know exactly which applies to borough through. So they know.

I give up the fight. Have your apples, you little creeps. I am moving on to pomegranates.


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