Survival

The apple was small and withered, but when she bit into it, a trickle of juice ran down her chin and the green skin snapped beneath her teeth. She found a black piece of rot and dug it out with dirty, ragged fingernails, and kept eating. She’d forgotten the names she’d always wanted to give to her children, the color of her favorite dress, the things her mother had told her about proper manners. All that existed was food, and shelter, listening and living. All she knew was survival.