We are walking through the forest, the leaves a soft blanket under our feet. There is a crispness in the air, a scent of change. I shiver, my bare nipples harden. He says he will go, get food, bring me gifts. But there are trees here, fruit within my reach. I can get my own gift. Before I can say so, he is gone. I will wait for his return. I'm not that hungry.
I curl beneath this tree, the fruit ripe and pungent. I nestle into the fallen leaves, finding warmth where the sun has heated them half the day. I sleep. I don't know how long I've slept when I awaken. The sun has shifted in the sky, the leaves are cold, cling to my bare skin. He hasn't returned. I begin to be hungry.
I stand, brush the leaves from me, turn to find him, the other. He plucks the fruit from the tree under which I slept. He smells it, holds it out to me. I shiver again, but not from cold.
"Here. It is delicious to the taste, and very desirable."
"I wll not partake. I will die if I do."
"You will not die. You will be like a god, knowing truth."
"No, I will die."
"No, you will know truth."
I take the fruit. It is heavier, denser than I imagined. There is a sharpness to the smell. The skin is thin, transparent, white. I weigh my thoughts, my options. Adam will return, he will have food. That hunger will be fed. Even if I die, is that not worth truth?
I bite into the flesh of the fruit. It is delicious, as he said. It drips light, its juice, light and knowledge. I lick it from my hands. The aftertaste though is bitter, like poison. This will not kill me today, but I taste my death, feel it enter me.
I turn, face him. I know him now, know this too--truth is worth the daily deaths we die to know it.
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