“California, here I come, right back where I started from…” the man sang softly as he shuffled down the sidewalk. It was one of those sparkling early-summer afternoons — the ones his mother used to call “Peek-a-Boos” — when Summer peels back the curtain of fog and does a little dance before vanishing for another month of June Gloom. The man had shaken a few coins from his gallon bottle piggy bank and used them to buy a Scratcher® from the dilapidated corner store, and there was hope in his heart as he used the bottle cap to scratch off the numbers. His mother always said there was something special about him, and that knowledge had lodged deep in his unconscious, giving him the strength to persevere no matter what obstacles appeared in front of him. Today, the obstacle was a banana peel segment, lying stringy-side up amidst a scattering of melon seeds, its phloem bundles exposed to the elements. He bent to look closer and observed that despite these indignities, the flayed fruit maintained a mostly fresh appearance, from its bright whort to its green-tipped crown. He smiled, reassured by its resilience, but did not notice as his ticket slipped out of his pocket and fluttered to the ground, where it remained until street cleaning day.
watchoutbananapeel 