[ WP ] A guy finds the perfect avocado

My love, 
 
 I write to you in haste for I have not much time. I have finally found it. The perfect avocado. As I type this message, it sits upon my counter, beholden to nothing but its own magnificence. 
 
 It was in the market down by the pier. Remember where Toby fell into the puddle? Right there. There was n't a cloud in the sky, the wind was soft and alluring, and I was thinking about you when my gaze drifted to the little market tucked away down there. Dozens of avocados spilled from their wooden container, perfectly shadowed from the morning sun by the taunt linen cover of the stall. 
 
 My fingers slid across their knobbly skin feeling each rough protective knot and gnarl. I knew there would be one here that was perfect. I did n't see it so much as feel it. Its rind was marred with imperfect roughness, but smooth enough to entice me to slide my fingers deeper and grasp it in my palm. It sat lightly as I took it from the pile. Its dark form was that perfect shade of purple-black, black in the sun, but purple in the shade. I rolled it back and forth and it glided across my hand. It was balanced like a sphere and every proportion aligned with the other. Glancing at the seller, I casually flipped off the stem. Beneath it was the most verdant green. Harsh like the green of a jungle fern, but soft and inviting like summer grass. I squeeze it - ever so softly - and it squishes slightly as my fingers press against its flesh. A tingle travels up my arm and my shoulders quiver. Fresh, ripe, and ready. 
 
 The seller stared at me. `` How much?'' I asked. She pointed to the sign. 50 cents! `` For any of them?'' She shrugged. What a fool. I slipped her a dollar and winked with the avocado in my hand. She rolled her eyes and I turned back towards my apartment. I had no desire to share perfection, and if she thought that every avocado was worth 50 cents, then all the better. A REAL merchant knows that every price is what the buyer will pay. I would have paid a thousand times that for the little fruit. I know I will never find an avocado more perfect than this. How many years had I seen the avocado shadow on the wall, knowing that somewhere lay its maker in the vast avocado sea? 
 
 I had found it. It was mine and mine alone. 
 
 I do n't know yet what I will do with it. Perhaps I will make our favourite guacamole, remember it? With the cayenne and cilantro and a touch of sriracha? I will tell you in my next letter. Every moment I spend typing is another moment of wasted time. 
 
 As always, I can not wait to see you again, to eat with you again, to share with you again. Every bite of avocado will be one I wish was with you. Every moment is but a shadow without you here, my love. 
 
 I will miss you always, 
 
 Jaime 
 

