@roger bultot
She had been out back picking the mangoes from the tree. They smelled delicious and made her mouth water. As she gathered the fruit she noticed someone moving quickly in the corner of the backyard. Who could it be?
Out stepped a man in a fine black suit. He motioned for her to not scream.
He came and touched her arm slightly and asked her to serve as a spy for the CIA.
How could it be?
Why her?
He told her he would be back at midnight with instructions.
She went back into the house and went upstairs to her small, cramped fanless room and soaked her feet. Tomorrow would be another hard day on the assembly line.
Categories: identity, photograph, photography, Psychology, women, work, writing prompt
psychologistmimi 
The mention of mangoes makes me remember the time, years ago, when visiting my parents in Florida, I ate too many and broke out in a rash all over my arms after I returned home. Their neighbor’s mango tree was burdened with the fruit, and mangoes were distributed ad infinitum to all the neighbors. It was the first time I had ever tasted mangoes, and boy, are they good, fresh from the tree!
BTW, did that guy ever come back at midnight? Haha.
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