It was picture perfect. It was the apple we’ve all grown up with. Whenever we learned about the word apple, this picture of this apple was right there. Sure, in all its various artistic forms, but it was there. Perfectly shiny, with a toasty brown stem and a grass green leaf hanging off it. It was THE APPLE.
So I left it on my desk. No, not to rot. To be admired. At least, until I got around to eating it. It was something I desired to eat, but I just wasn’t hungry enough or in the mood enough for it right at the moment. So I left it on my desk.
It stayed there for a few days. I admired it greatly. It didn’t look like it was rotting at all, so I let it sit. And sit. And sit. And sit.
I think it was the seventh day when it disappeared.
I noticed, of course I noticed, but it wasn’t something that was going to cause me to flap my arms around and cause a ruckus. Just wasn’t going to happen.
So when my boss, with her ebony hair and red ribbon, went ill, I hardly thought anything of it. What surprised me, finally, was when she stopped responding to emails. When she stopped popping in on our messaging system and stopped handing out orders. Only then did I pause and say, “Hmmm, I wonder…”
When they came to arrest me, surprise welled in my eyes. “I don’t understand,” I kept muttering but all they did was shake their heads.
When they asked me why, I had no response. I could only say, “It wasn’t a gift. It wasn’t even meant for her. It was on MY desk. It was MY apple.” But the disbelief was etched across every single one of their faces.
The accusations came fast and furious. “You’re just evil, to want her dead.”
“How could you gift that apple to her? You knew it was poisonous!”
“You must have created it yourself.”
“You were jealous of her beauty. That’s why you did it.”
I was carted off to prison. Tossed inside, I brushed off my clothes and stood up. When the door clanged shut, I grimaced.
“Now, now,” something started behind me. “If you’re going to make that face, you will most certainly not be the fairest one of all.”