"These strawberries have seen better days," she remarked. "They look like they went through a lot of abuse." "Cut off the bruises," I told her," they're still good if you cut off the bruises." She ran them under cold water in the sink and tossed them onto the counter. She pulled a knife from the drawer and began to slice off the bruised sides of the strawberries. "If I cut them all off, there'll be nothing left of it," she said. "Of course not, if you cut them like that," I told her. "But you're taking off lots of good fruit with the bad parts, too. Just cut out the bad parts, like this." I grabbed the knife, cut a circle around the bruise, and scooped it out with the point. "There." "But now look what you've done to it," she said, picking up the strawberry lovingly. "Better a bruise than a puncture wound like that." She gazed at it for a moment, as though she were about to kiss it, then dropped it on the counter, snatched the knife from me and chopped off its green leafy top. "Give me a kiss, love, I'm off to the airport now." I picked up my suitcase and slipped on my sneakers. "And promise me you won't mortally wound all the fruit in the house while I'm gone." "Fine," she said, "I'll eat the pears without slicing them up first." She kissed me and I began to walk towards the door. "Wait," she said, "take these. I don't really want them." She shoveled the strawberries into a coffee mug and handed it to me. "Now, it's a nasty world out there. It's cold and dark and soulless. Don't get lost. Look both ways when you cross the street. Don't talk to strange men. Break things and yell at people if you need to." All this she said with a straight face. "I won't get lost," I repeated, "I'll look both ways. Won't talk to strange men. Break stuff and yell if I feel inclined. So off I go." She kissed me again and I left.

It amazed me that someone who could have so much love for a fruit could at the same time take such an immense disliking to the rest of the world. I never quite grasped what her hatred had stemmed from, but it was clear that nothing short of a twelve-step program would allow her to tolerate the human race. Sometimes, I found reasons of my own to avoid contact with all other people. I decided that I would join her at home, and never leave the house again except for buying groceries and borrowing or returning library books. But I always found myself in situations like these again, leaving her alone while I traveled on business to dirty, smog-filled, overwhelming cities. This time was different, I thought. This time I would go home, and I wouldn't leave her anymore.