My Friend wrote a short story.

My cool friend wrote this short Story. I loved it.

Earlier today I ate a whole tomato like an apple... The difference I found out however is that there is no core in it like an apple? I felt uneasy. Untrusting... Panicked, even. I pondered that thought for a moment... My brow furrowing... The difference...? What difference? Both red. Skin smooth. "Not like an apple..." I breathed... Not like, an... Apple? Did I know that before? I did? Didn't I? Didn't...? I? My mind wandering, now racing... Evermore frantic... Corking... Uncorking... Turning... I stopped myself. "Fruits? I reckon...". I was staring now... My brain piecing together so many names, faces... People I had once been... How could I have been so vain? Was I even being fair to myself? I felt betrayed by my memories... So many tomatoes, so many apples... Tomatoes... Apples... Why would I assume things? I hadn't? Had I? I stared down at this half eaten thing, this half eaten red... Thing. It was in this moment of utter fixation that I took "the bite"... The bite that took me clean through into the middle where a core may have once been... Clean... And out the other side that hit me like a bus. An uncompromising, 'I'm not making it into work today' fucking bus mate. There was no core. Straight up. The tomato a senseless fucking legend to behold. I spun it wildly up into the air... Marveling... It all made sense.

"The tomato" by simon. Taken from short stories post 2000 collected works