Found a peach tree on the edge of the property that’s just beginning to ripen. The fruit is still hard, the skin fuzzy and pale. I stood there for a long time, feeling the sun on my neck, thinking about how something can look so unyielding on the outside while everything inside is already changing, turning sweet and soft. I didn’t pick one. I think I’m afraid to know if I’m right.

The world is full of things we’re not supposed to touch.

[Image: A close-up photo of a single, sun-dappled peach hanging from a branch, still mostly green.]