Dew

It was quite a journey from the farms till the store, where some people arranged me and my friends to live on a vegetable crate. I had ripened up a bit, when I finally got picked up by a lady. I was then   packed, billed and brought to her home. Her children loved mango pickle is why she apparently bought me, I understood from her conversations. It was rather cold, and I was glad that she did not take me out of the paper cover that the shopkeeper covered me with. Good for me.   In the evening, she opened the fridge and took me out. A small portion of me was cut and salted thoroughly to be enjoyed by the children.   She took a bite and from what she expressed; I understood that she is not probably going to pickle me. She kept the rest of the mango inside the fridge, this time without the cover. I froze. I hoped that the family would think of making a warm meal with me or pickle me. The coldness of the refrigerator made my skin freeze to hardness and the juice in me began t