i pop open a can of mandarins and eat them on christmas morning. somewhere, two states over, a stranger is eating mandarins in late afternoon. we are sharing pieces of the same fruit - an intimate act i would reserve for the dearest of my friends. take this sweetness from my plate and put it on yours - it tastes delightful, i want you to have it. an intimate act, and yet, here i am, sharing a canned mandarin with a stranger i will never know the name of. an unknown soulmate, connected by a piece of fruit split into two separate cans. every time i meet someone new, i wonder, “have i ever shared a fruit with you?”












