Three mango pickers.

A woman and her young daughter are picking mangoes off the singular tree in their front yard garden. I’m as usual on my balcony and their house is at a small distance.

Intense envy. I wish I had this. A mango tree in my front yard garden.

Suddenly, I see a man in a red shirt — the husband — fall from the tree along with a green branch. And I laugh.

(If I did not continue looking until the man fell from the tree like a giant red fruit, I would have never come to know that there were in fact three mango pickers. Perhaps there were more?)

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