96

Zenon was standing in the chilly part of the supermarket, just at the fruit stall, holding an apple. He swung around as if he was seeking those jumbo packs of apple juice, five, ten, twenty-liter cartons. Apple juice was mixed with other flavors because apples are cheap, right? Then there was cider and calvados, then apple vinegar, what else... ah yes, Germans are crazy for apple mousse, then there is baby food, Zenon nodded to himself. He wondered if apple pies are still America's favorite. Every store carries at least apples in their fruit sections. But the entire world production was close to a million metric tons. Some of it goes bad, never reaching the customers, but still... There simply can't be enough apples for everyone.

What about strawberries, then? Zenon shook his head and put back apple on the rack, turning to face those red berries. Well, there aren't more than ten million metric tons of those and they are quite a popular flavor! Strawberry ice cream, strawberry chocolates, strawberry jam-filled biscuits, and tarts, then fresh strawberries consumption, then factor in their short shelf life. Impossible! Zenon angrily thumped with his food.

They lie to us!

Either there are more strawberries in this world than the statistics report, or there are fewer strawberries in the product than the label declares. Maybe both are correct, mused Zenon. Whatever the answer may be, Zenon left the supermarket firmly determined to discover where do our strawberries go.

95

I slept for a thousand years.

It all started as a nap. I didn't even cover myself. I just let go and gravity pulled my flesh sank into the rut of the bed. Behind me remained an invisible cloud of thoughts, fears, dreams, and foggy notions, but it lingered just for a split second and started flowing downwards.

Absence of my consciousness already started sucking all that I've left behind by embracing the other side.

I don't remember what came next. I was probably sweating till my pillow could not soak any more, trickling my acrid flow onto the scarred flooring, pouring on and on till the bed started floating, with me in it as my cradle.

That made my dreams softer, fluffier as if someone was whispering kind words to me.

And that's all.

Whatever I've seen on the other side is none of your business, and even if you think it is, I would never ever tell you.