The Last Banana. An Essay by Valerie Mitchell Jeffrey

He sits alone on the counter.
Bought nine days ago with the rest of his bunch. A big bunch they were. But he is the last of them.
He watched them go every morning. Some mashed before being added to oatmeal.
Others chomped down raw.
Always a piece was taken off to give to the caged parrot who sometimes dropped as much as he ate.
The Last Banana has been alone for three mornings now. Each day when she entered the kitchen he was sure it was his turn.
She had eyed him. Then reached for an apple from the dwindling supply in the bowl.
The first morning alone he was apprehensive.
And the second.
But now he realises that this is why he is here. This is his reason for being.
He knows today will be the day.
And he is ready.

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