Welcome back to the A-Z Challenge - I'm writing microfiction themed around a different place each day. After our visit to Bamberg in Germany yesterday, today we're off to London; specifically, to Chelsea Physic Garden, which was founded in 1673 as a research garden for the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries (isn't that a brilliant name?) and is now open to the public.
Chelsea Physic Garden
Grapefruit. The very word sounded heavy and rich with possibility.
Aaron glanced left, then right. His dad was pointing at something or other, his mum was nodding. They did that a lot.
The fruit hung above Aaron, like a pale orange.
'These,' his father had said, in his best lecturer voice, 'are the northernmost-growing grapefruit in the world. Imagine that, Aaron - no grapefruit from here to the North Pole.'
Aaron pictured a sign - 'North Pole: No Grapefruit til London SW3.'
His parents had walked on, but Aaron stayed under the grapefruit, looking.
He'd stolen apples before, from the low-hanging tree in his neighbour's garden. This could be his only shot at grapefruit, ever.
He glanced around again.