He was born under the shadow of a cactus.
He was born walking.
Independent from birth, like all desert creatures.
Desert life is perfect. Perfectly fair. You reap what you sow.
Cactus cultivation is primary business in the desert.
Drink cactus to feel quenched. Eat cactus to feel stuffed.
Life is full for desert people.
One day while walking and plucking thorns from his lips, he saw a strange boy perched on a fence post.
He had never seen a fence post in this spot before.
This boy was eating a strange fruit.
It looked like a sunset in his hand.
Pink and orange and yellow all at the same time.
Juice melted into his fingers, pooled in his palm and made tiny streams down his dusty arm.
“Is that…. an apple?”
He stepped closer.
Just saying the word made his mouth water and run dry.
An old traveler spoke of apples once.
All the cactus people said the old man was crazy.
“Yup! Want one?”
Reaching into his bag, the strange boy presented another pink fiery apple.
Streams of apple juice were dried on both of their arms when the sunlight began to swoon.
“Where do you get the apples?”
“From my dad.”
“What’s a ‘dad’?”
When the strange boy smiled it looked like the moon was in his mouth.
“Come with me. I’ll show ya.”