This was from a five minute exercise at a writing weekend.
There it is. I can still see it, hanging there, tantalizing, almost out of reach. What was it God had said? He said we can eat the fruit from any tree, except the one in the middle of the garden. But surely he couldn’t have meant this tree, or this apple. I know he only wants us to have what’s good. And it does look so good, glowing warmly, nestled in amongst the leaves.
You know, I can even smell it from here. Heavy. Perfumy. It makes my mouth water. I can imagine biting into it, crisp, firm. I can almost taste the juice, oozing, dribbling.
Surely God won’t mind if I just pick it and enjoy looking at it. I won’t eat it, just hold it and look at it. I stretch up, and there it is in my hand, smooth, soft. Its smell is over-powering, delicious, seductive.
Surely God won’t mind if I have one small bite, I won’t eat it all.