hayley had a large trampoline just outside her back door, which was always covered in leaves and sticks, strewn across the dark fabric. one day we brushed all the debris from the top and began to bounce. higher and higher until she captured something from the sky and brought it down to eye level. it was an ugly thing, dark in color, an almost circle. she encouraged me to collect one for myself; intrigued, i did as i was told and soared into the leaves to pluck one for myself. cross-legged on the warm surface, we cracked open our treasures and i discovered a grotesque collection of seeds inside. i had no idea what to do—believing mine was rotten, or not ripened yet—i frowned in disappointment at my selection. but as i peered over to hayley, the smile on her lips showed that this was not the case. ours were identical, and she quickly used her fingers like a spoon to scoop out the soft insides. i followed her lead and allowed the foreign flavors to tickle my tongue before crunching down on the tough seeds. i thought i might die of pleasure—the zing of the fruit, the warm australian evening, this exotic flavor dancing with my taste buds. "what is this?" i begged. her broad smile widened as she said "passion fruit."

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