They silently stared at the last two mangos while standing side-by-side. Both of them were regulars at the organic market but today was the first time their paths coalesced.
“Have you recently feasted on these feisty fruits?”
“Happy to confess—guilty as charged!” while raising both hands in a surrendering gesture.
“And what was your recollection, if I may impinge on your fortuitous indictment?”
“Well, it was just last week, so it’s relatively fresh in my …” poking their forehead with a rigid index finger, “frontal cortex. Pre-med wannabe. Art school tragedy. Anyways, this may resonate as hyperbole, but the sweetness of the pulp was transcendentally sopping!”
Nodding in agreement while gently caressing the mango’s facade, “Should be ripe in three summer moons.”
“My natal day, how intoxicating!” Reaching for the last remaining delicacy, “This beauty has beguiled me from the get-go.”
“And I shall treasure its twin.”

In the check-out line five minutes later.
“Salutations, comrade.”
“Charmed, my fruitarian confidant. So what are you plotting for the feast?”
“I was contemplating a lassi.”
“Oh! Yum. Do you need a sous?”
“I would fancy an accomplished hand.”
Neither of them purchased anything else. Just the mangos. They both refused the offer of a brown paper bag.

⌘