Her apple was the juiciest of the orchard. by velvetpie. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories. “Honey! Honey, stop here!” I turned my MP3 player down and stared out the window as my father, Paul, pulled into a driveway, flanked by a homemade wood-and-wire fence. We bumped down the dirt road, heading toward a two-story farmhouse in the near distance. Dark-green leafed trees lined the drive and I examined the reason for our stop. A hand-painted sign out front had touted Red Delicious – Yellow
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