"A memory," Elias corrected, tucking the heavy jars under his arm and stepping back out into the cool evening, finally heading home to bake. AI responses may include mistakes. Learn more
Elias froze. "Tart cherries. Fresh, if you have them. Frozen or jarred if you don't." where can i buy tart cherries
Marty, a man who looked like he was carved out of an old apple tree, stepped into the light. "Fresh season is blink-and-you-miss-it, kid. Usually July, mostly up in Michigan or Utah. You're a few months off for the orchards." Elias deflated. "I need them for tonight." "A memory," Elias corrected, tucking the heavy jars
"We have Bings," they’d say. "Big, sweet, dark red Bings." "Tart cherries
Elias walked to the shelf. There they were. Not the bloated, purple-black cherries of the supermarket, but bright, fire-engine red globes suspended in clear nectar.
The neon sign outside "Marty’s Produce" flickered, casting a buzzing red glow over Elias’s boots. He had been to four grocery stores already. Each time, he asked the same question. Each time, he got the same shrug.
He pushed open the creaky door. The air smelled of damp earth and cedar.