The Fruit Loop

By Kelly Murashige

For as long as I can remember, I’ve said I love you through my fruits. I’m in the middle of washing strawberries when I hear your footsteps in the hall. At the sound of your keys gnawing at the lock, I set the berries back in the fridge and meet you by the door.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” you say—or maybe sigh. It’s been that kind of day.

“Grapes?” I guess.

You shake your head. “Too much effort.”

My mouth quirks. Only you could find work so tiring, you can’t raise grapes to your own face.

“I could feed you,” I offer.

You brush past me, then double back. “I’m okay. I can make something myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” I tap you twice: on the nose, then in the middle of your forehead. Once I’ve gotten a good look at the befuddlement on your face, I spin around on my heel, humming, and sashay back into the kitchen.

Unlike you, I love my job. I get to type away on a laptop. It makes me feel so fancy, like a goose in a straw hat.

I don’t get that, you said when I explained all this to you. What does a goose have to do with your job?

Everything, I told you.

You shook your head. Left it at that.

While you change out of your work clothes, I grab a fruit from the bottom shelf of our fridge and run it under the tap. Then, once I’ve cut it nicely, with our only kitchen knife, I place the sections on a plate and meet you in the living room.

“You don’t have to keep doing this,” you tell me.

“I know I don’t,” I say. “I just keep thinking, you know, we make such a great pear.”

Pursing your lips, you shoot me a look, then drop your gaze to the plate. You’re quiet for a moment. You lift your eyes back to my face.

Grinning, I grab a slice and raise it to my mouth. “Orange you glad I didn’t make you a pear?”

You roll your eyes. “You’re the worst.”

I bite into the wedge. “You mean the best.”

You study me, one eyebrow raised.

“Fine,” you say. “Maybe I do mean the best.”

I break into a grin and sit beside you, listening to you talk as we pick at the orange.

It’s been years now, but we still do some version of this each day. You come home a little grumpy. I do my best to cheer you up. We poke fun at each other, giggling like we’re four again. We wake up every morning, sweetness clinging to our tongues. We look over at each other, smiling, and we do it all again.

💕💕💕💕

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Born and raised in Hawaiʻi, Kelly Murashige is the author of the award-winning YA novel The Lost Souls of Benzaiten and Adam Silvera’s July 2025 Allstora Book Club Pick, The Yomigaeri Tunnel. Her work has been nominated for Best Small Fictions. Though she can be shy, she loves obsessing over books, video games, and strange animals.