I came back to my desk from a meeting, to find a persimmon quietly waiting atop my closed computer. I looked around, but no one was looking at me. I shrugged and smiled at the little gift and decided to figure it out later. It was the holidays - the eat too much, sentimental, give everyone gifts time. I loved persimmons and was a sucker for unusual fruits. I saved it till ripe and ate it without worry two days later at my desk. I promptly forgot about it, until the following Wednesday.
I arrived home late that day, wrung out and exhausted. A plastic bag hung on my door handle. Two persimmons. I took it in with me, perplexed. Most people I worked with didn’t know my address. No one I worked with lived in my building. It seemed strange, but not so strange as to frighten me. I set the bag on the counter and forgot until that weekend. Cleaning, I picked up the bag in confusion, then tossed it, bag and all, into the garbage.
Sunday morning I woke up slowly, but snapped awake when I saw them. Four persimmons balanced neatly on my nightstand. I called the police. They were sympathetic but not exactly alarmed enough for my liking. A weird one, they said, but not actually dangerous. “Someone was in my fucking apartment,” I shouted. That garnered me a pat on the arm and a promise to let me know if they turned up anything. Oh yes and change my locks. They took the fruit with them.
I felt watched after that. Being private, I hate the idea of being watched. I was careful. I changed locks and even locked my windows and my car. I eyed my co-workers with suspicion and avoided my neighbors. I hated conflict. My life was simple, but I needed it that way. Now I really felt like I couldn’t let down my guard.
Nothing happened for several days, then…tonight.
I awoke cold, drugged, naked, a horrible full feeling in my throat and gut. I was chained in an unfamiliar place. A man stood before me, a bag of fruit in his hands. All I could see of his face was a snarl, a trembling lip, a glint of eyes. I had no idea who he was. He began to cram what I realized was another persimmon in my mouth, forcing it down my throat. “You should have accepted my gifts when I left them,” he shouted, spittle hitting my face. In the split second it took for his voice to register, I recognized him – my boss, single, bad divorce, moved here recently, prone to fits of temper. This is it, I thought, struggling to breathe.
As my face split into a grin much too large, and my sharp, uneven teeth slid from hiding, I bit the hand that fed me, swallowing the fingers along with the fruit. I cleared my throat of blood and persimmon as he began to scream. I broke the chains with one snap, grabbing him in a bear hug, my spittle flecked with his blood now hitting his face. “...but I love persimmons, they are my second favorite,” I cooed, feeling his breath and screams stop. As I crushed his ribs, I delighted in the sweet smell of my favorite fruit as its juice leaked to the floor.