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by Kristin Tenor

When you get the diagnosis don’t look the doctor in the eye because it will only make what you already know true. Instead go home. Pick the heaviest apples from the tree. They are the sweetest. Pierce the skin with the tip of your knife, peeling away a long red ribbon as though you’re unwrapping the finest gift. Cut away the bruises, the flesh eaten away by worms working their way to the core. Take what is left, savor it. Tuck it away under the crust where it will be kept warm, protected until the day of consumption draws near.

Kristin Tenor finds inspiration in life’s quiet details and believes in their power to illuminate the extraordinary. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in the Midwest Review, Spry Literary Journal, Milk Candy Review, River Teeth-Beautiful Things, and elsewhere. She lives in Wisconsin with her husband. More at kristintenor.com or on Twitter @KristinTenor.