polvo magazine

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By Megan Rodgers

Elska rolls the apple around in her hands. The fleshy part of her left palm, at the base of her thumb searches for the highest hump, testing and turning until it finds the proper place to brace. She inserts her right thumb into the depression near the stem and tears the apple apart. The break is clean, effortless. “Like bone crunching,” she says when it splits in two. The sound has the urgency of biting into an apple, but without the juicy slurping and chewing, it sings more clearly.

Elska cracks apples before she eats them. Her grandfather taught her how when she was a kid on his farm in Germany. He gave her small apples then, ones that fit her hands. She says the fit is more important than strength, but there is no denying she is strong. She has shed that envelope of fat even thin women are supposed to have, and sinewy muscles ripple plainly under her skin. She is sometimes mistaken for a man, yet both men and women find her sexy. Is it her muscles? Is it how she can intuit the one weak point in the apple where it will let itself be ripped? Is it the way she always offers you half of her apple? You stop thinking, like Adam, you do not question, you take the fruit and eat of it. “If you can pull an apple apart with your bare hands, you can have any girl you want.”


Written by admin

February 26, 2010 at 12:59 am

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