Once upon a time, a friend and I were hiking. We hiked all day long; we were hot and dusty. We finally came into town and found a merchant with a stall on the street-corner. On the end of his counter was a basket of Apples. "Apples" with a capital "A". Delicious apples. Big apples, shiny, ripe, juicy. You could taste them with your eyes.

My friend and I are famished: hungry and extremely thirsty. We each buy an apple and continue down the street.

I look at this morsel in my hand. It is amazing. Shining and fragrant, the art of the gods... it's a wish come true. Then my friend starts talking. "Did you see that car he was driving?" he says.

"Uh, no..."

"Well it was a Cadillac. How can a street merchant afford a Cadillac? You know, he probably has connections to organized crime..."

I look again at my apple. It beckons me. My mouth is actually drooling. My stomach is gurgling. My friend continues...

"And these foreigners you know, I hear they're cornering the market on produce. They're ripping off the farmers and they're not even telling you if it's organic or not..."

I bite into my apple. It's delightful beyond words. The sweetness rushes up my nose, the juice runs down my chin. It's crisp, fresh, cool, all that it promised when I laid eyes on it. I swallow and bite again. My parched throat is coming to life. The sweetness oozes into my body and I feel energized.

"... and what's more, my friends tried some of his apples once and they had worms in them..."

I can hardly hear him. My body is rejuvenated. My throat is watered. Energy seeps into tired veins... and the taste, the taste: magnifique! Every bite a delight. Crisp. Delicate. Aromatic. Sensuous. My friend keeps ranting and we approach an intersection. I turn homeward and my friend keeps going. As he disappears into the dark alleys, I can still hear him cursing. Now he's into politics, relatives and bank accounts. He has thrown away the apple, his voice is raspy with thirst and tinged with the edges of delusion.

I finish my apple and throw away the core. There is nothing more to be said. The contract was fulfilled.