Three peaches are ripening on the counter in a brown paper bag. I reach in and press them with my thumbs to see how they’re coming along. When the flesh gives, I scoop them out, and the smell of ripe peaches is sweet and soft here in the kitchen.
I put the fruit in the refrigerator to chill and lift the bag to my nose. It smells as though the peaches are still inside, so I close my eyes and press my face into the bag.
I open my eyes just in time to see the neighbor across the way doing his dishes. His kitchen window is few feet from ours, and he is staring at me. Me with my eyes closed, breathing into a paper bag.