Bloom Read Free

of downtown.
    His favorite produce stand in The Bronx was near the corners of Westchester and Castle Hill. The owner was busy topping off a heaping carton of bananas when Colton approached the stand.
    “Morning, Mr. Laretti.”
    “Mr. Ross! Good to see you, as always. Yet it is few and far between, yes? You must have the day off.” Antonio Laretti had bushy black eyebrows and a receding hairline. Standing on his toes, he was probably only five feet tall. He squinted up at Colton through thick reading glasses.
    “My first in two weeks.” Colton picked up two apples and inspected them for bruises.
    “Ah, yes, they work you too hard. I am also working too hard. But! People are needing their fruits and vegetables, yes? Where else they gonna get them if not from old Antonio!”
    “Thanks a lot, Mr. Laretti.” Colton handed him a dollar and took the two apples.
    “Of course, of course. Come back soon, I’ll have better apples.”
    Colton smiled. “I’m sure these are just fine. Take it easy.”
    Mr. Laretti mumbled a farewell in Italian as Colton walked away.
    He stuck one of the apples in his pocket and turned the corner onto Westchester Avenue. Colton held the other apple firmly in his palm. He took a quick look around to make sure no one was watching him and held the apple at his side. Colton imagined the fruit withering in his grip, sinking into itself as it gave up its life. He smiled as the firm red skin turned soft against his palm and sank down closer to the core. The apple shrank to a sliver of its former size and cooled as if it had been instantly refrigerated. Colton checked once again to make sure no one was looking at him before he held up the shriveled piece of fruit.
    It looked like a rotted apple core; it was brown and crispy, shrunken into the shape of an hourglass. Colton peeled away a small piece of burnt flesh from the black fruit and was not surprised at the fine powder that fell out of the hole.
    He tossed the desiccated core into a wastebasket and kept walking toward the shelter. He ate the other apple as he walked.
    After a few more steps he started to feel warmth gather around his spine between his shoulder blades. It first spread up to the base of his neck, then back down his spine before flowing out to his arms and legs. Finally, it settled in his hands and his palms radiated with heat.
    Colton had accidentally run across the phenomenon less than a year earlier while handling a small lizard. The delicate reptile had somehow managed to sneak into his house in Pittsburgh during the day and clung to the inside of the sliding glass window until nightfall.
    That afternoon had been a particularly hard one for Colton. His mother abandoned Colton—and Colton’s father—nine years earlier. Neither of them had heard from her since. Most of the time he was able to push thoughts of her out of his mind, but for some reason, on that day, he couldn’t help but dwell on how happy he used to be when she was around.
    His father came home drunk from work and continued drinking until he passed out on the couch, shouting insults to Colton and his long-absent, unfaithful mother the entire time. Shortly after his father’s final rant and subsequent blackout, Colton decided to go out onto the back porch to get some fresh air.
    He found the lizard as he slid open the sliding glass door. It didn’t try to escape when Colton reached out and gently scooped it off the glass. It sat there in his palm, staring up at him sideways with one eye. Colton stepped out of the house and walked over to the nearest bush to set down the lizard, but before he got there, the reptile twitched and rolled over onto its back. He watched as the lizard’s skin shrank until it was nothing more than a thin brown layer stretched over a tiny skeleton. It looked as if it had been baking in the sun for weeks.
    Colton shuddered with disgust and threw the dead lizard into the bushes before he went back inside to wash his hands.
    It happened only