By MV Kartoz
“How much?” she giggles. The answer can’t possibly bother her. It’s the punchline to a joke where it’s impossible to fumble the delivery.
For a coconut in a bush town in Alaska in January? It’s practically the deal of a lifetime. They toss it back and forth jovially as they lug groceries up the gangway to the house. Eggs, apples, beer, coconut. When the rest of the mid-winter restock is put away in the pantry, it’s left alone on the table. They eat dinner that night with it there between them, gazing at the caretakers over bowls of venison-barley stew. Dishes are practically scraped clean by the time either of them can manage to address the alien fruit with words instead of bewildered glances.Continue Reading This Story