the perfect round circle sits in my mouth as i roll my tongue around it, feeling each little tiny hair growing on it. it's firm, but a little squishy, just waiting to be bitten.
my front teeth hold it as i try to pierce the skin, but i move it to the back in between my molars and bite down. warm, tart juice pops into my mouth, then turns sweet, vaguely familiar of garden earth and sunshine. the first bite of the first ripe tomato of the season. is there anything sweeter?
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