For months they lingered on the vine, growing green and heavy.
Gran, how do you feel today?
Anxious. She said.
Good anxious or bad anxious?
Good anxious. She said.The room felt humid. The bathroom smelled of a mildewed mop. No wall clock. No chairs. No television. No matter.
I combed my fingers through her hair, breaking the curls that had been set days before. She closed her eyes.
That feels good. She said....
The tomato felt warm in my palm.
Summer would begin its slow escape with the first slice.