The Lonely Apple

Pick me, he thought as he sat in the pile of apples in the produce department. Shoppers bustled by, talking on cell-phones and shushing toddlers. Occasionally someone would pause in front of the green apples, and he would become hopeful that they would choose him. Each one carefully inspected their purchase to see that they were fresh and free of bruises. He waited patiently, and because suddenly enthusiastic as he noticed that a pretty middle-aged woman had her eye on him. She lifted him up and examined him under the light. However, she saw that he had quite a few scratches and cosmetic flaws. So she sat him down and began to study another apple. A few more hours passed similarly; he would get excited as someone showed interest, but each time, the shoppers would see how bruised he was, and cast him aside to choose another. Why don't they want me?, he wondered. He began to fret. Is there something wrong with me? He used to be a perfect apple, but the delivery truck had been quite rough with him, and it showed. It was then that the apple being surveyed by a short man with blond hair and a mustache was rejected. The shopper set the apple down, and the other apple saw that she, too, had a few yellowed bruises and a scratch to the left of her stem. Together, they watched as the greenest, prettiest apples were selected and purchased. He bean to wonder if anyone would want him, an imperfect, flawed specimen. No one could ever love me, he brokenly thought. Each minute, he became less and less hopeful that anyone would choose him.