You are just the average person with average life. You have a job, working for retail at a rather small grocery store. It takes a 10 minute car ride to work, though at least you're getting paid. You live in a remote area next to a forest. The forest is beautiful. Bright fruits littered across shrubs, the sunlight peaking through the tiniest crevices, and the winding rivers that wrap around like clothing wrinkles. It's like a mystical grove. There is something off about the garden. It doesn't smell that much like tasty fruit. It smells putrid, like rotting flesh. Your mom told you to stay away from the "meat fruits" when you were younger. Animals who ate the fruit would drop dead within minutes. Regardless, the slight scent left of fruit makes up for it. You take care of the garden sometimes. It seems to grow quicker when you are around. Your tiny form stood below the staggering pitaya tree. A fruit fell down in front of you. The rancid smell invaded you nostrils. The leaves of the tree shivered, no wind around. The garden likes you.