Just hours earlier, he was strolling through apple orchards. His sister, annoyed at the fact that he didn’t pick one apple the entire time. Too busy playing with a black and orange caterpillar he scooped up from the middle of the road before certain squishy death by an oncoming pickup truck. A slowly marching eyebrow. He had set it free along the bark of a tall elm tree before we were to board the tractor. It climbed about twelve feet high, stretching its furry body before turning around and coming back down where Charlie scooped it up again into the bowl he had formed with his hands.
He let it explore his turning wrist and urged it to travel up his forearm, placing a winesap leaf under its tiny tickling feet.


















