Every now and then, I cut open an avocado and find an enormous brown pit swallowing up the edible green flesh. I feel cheated when this happens. Avocados are pricey, so bigger pits are a bummer.
This was not a bummer. In fact, this was the smallest pit I had ever seen. I love avocados, so I felt lucky. More to eat!
Then my author brain goes into character development mode. Not everyone likes avocados. Some people have never seen one. How would different characters react to this "tiny pit" phenomenon?
Time to throw some scenarios around and see what grows.
A diet-obsessed mother stands at the cutting board while her two children run circles around the kitchen island chanting, "We hate avocados." "You only have to eat one bite," she says, mentally calculating exact proportions for each member of her household while tuning out the ruckus. One avocado meets her and her husband's caloric needs when split four-ways with their children. He gets the portion in front of the pit, she gets the "back," and the kids split what's left. Perfect.
It all goes to plan until her medium-sized avocado sports a miniscule pit. Her eyes widen. Does that extra flesh now make it a large avocado? Will her husband notice if their portions are larger than usual? Will those extra 20-30 calories end up on her thighs? She's staring at the fruit when her husband enters the kitchen. "No avocado for me, hon," he says. "I had it on my salad at lunch." She twitches.
I love obsessive characters like this. For most of us, a larger portion of fruit would be a good thing. For someone meticulously counting calories and trying to appease their family's picky eaters? This could trigger a panic attack, hah.
How about someone who is looking for a sign from above? No gender, age, or dietary requirements are needed for this next one.
This person buys an avocado because it reminds them of someone special. At home, they cut into it while saying a silent prayer. Their significant other has just broken up with them. They need a sign to know if they should reach out to their ex or let them go. Anything positive will do. As soon as they part the halves of the fruit, expecting to eat around the large pit, they see a tiny brown object more resembling a small seed.
This could go several ways.
One, the character takes the tiny pit as a positive sign. They got more fruit for their buck and decide to call their ex after lunch.
Two, the character sees the seed as underdeveloped, just like their relationship was. They sigh and give thanks for the larger portion of fruit but decide to let things be with their ex.
But I always was partial to the third way...
Suppose their ex is a huge fan of avocados. Suppose the couple used to have brag wars when they were together, documenting the tiniest avocado pit and calling the fruit "lucky?" This character, completely forgetting their trepidation, grabs their phone, snaps a picture, and sends it to their ex with a note: "I win the avocado war forever."
And that's why we should never put too much stock into "signs." But the concepts are fun! I could write short stories around all of these characters. For now, it was a fun exercise, inspired by a lovely green fruit.
Keep on smilin'!
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