Papaya

Papaya is always something.
A year ago Ayra instantly fell in love to a delicate papaya body butter with a scent so daaaaamn sweet that she could dance in trance everytime she uses it after bath. She would insanely smear every part of her body with the new addiction. She fell in love ever since and the next thing she knew was that she couldn’t help herself from buying another container, and another container, and another container... She did. And she’s happy with that.

Other time, she recalled a short conversation she had about two years ago with her caring dentist sister.
“What is it that you really want? Don’t you want to be married like me too? Mind your age, honey. I say this not to push you or anything. I care about you, you know.”
“I know, dear sister. I know... I just think that marriage is something that can only happen at the right time. You cannot rush it. It’s like the need to excrete the faeces in your belly. If it’s not the time, it won’t come out, even if you sit in that closet for hours.”
“Well then eat some papayas!”
Hahaha.

Two days ago Ayra went to a morning market like usual, something she always loves to do. She bought some vegetables and a papaya, an ordinary papaya like any other papaya in any part of the world. It weighed a kilogram and she paid merely five thousand rupiah for the fruit. But it was not until afternoon that she cut the papaya into half, and voila...Such an astonishment she was granted. She smiled. The papaya brought up her brightest smile that day. Then she came to me who was busy gardening in the loft.
 “Look. I say it’s my star fruit!,” she said, with that brightest smile still illuminating her face.

If my eyes were able to speak, I believe they would say that it’s just too beautiful, too amazing, too simple yet too perfect. I knew I wouldn’t have a heart to cut it into pieces, let alone eating it.
But Ayra did. And she’s happy with that.