Caramelized onions and candied apples. Kettle corn. Peeling skin becomes the daunting task with bits and bites stuck in the back of my teeth. Makes it hard to smile. Showing off everything, every little bit of foods and sauces and flowers. Bees are jealous. Petals paste themselves to the roof of my mouth. It helps keep the rain from dripping through, keeps me from wasting the good pots and pans to collect so much water.

It will never get used. The faucet tastes like lead and rocks. I can almost feel them, rolling down my tongue, sandy, gritty, dirt. Scratchy throats. I am more thirsty than when I started. It is like skipping stones in a pond, but they never get very far. Arms are too heavy to lift on their own.

But I can hide a lot behind a smile.