A. Tree's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

A. Tree kept pulling apples from his branches and handing them out. The line stretched longer now, winding down the road past the wooden platform. More people had come when they saw what he could do. He reached up and plucked another apple from his shoulder. But each apple he pulled took something with it. A small tear opened where the stem broke free, and bright green leaves fell to the ground at his feet. He looked down and saw them scattered around the platform — dozens of leaves mixed with broken twigs and stems, a carpet of what he was losing. His left shoulder ached where a branch had snapped off clean. He touched the spot and felt rough bark instead of skin. The crowd pressed closer. Hands reached from every direction, grabbing at the low-hanging fruit before he could offer it properly. Someone yanked an apple hard and a whole branch cracked, falling to the platform with three unripe apples still attached. A. Tree stumbled but steadied himself. He scanned the faces pushing forward and saw hunger, yes, but also something else — urgency that had turned greedy. They weren't waiting anymore. They were taking. He raised both arms high above his head, branches and all, pulling the remaining apples out of reach. The crowd went quiet. A. Tree spoke for the first time since the transformation, his voice rough like wind through bark. "One at a time. I'll give everyone one. But you have to let me." A woman in front nodded and stepped back. Others followed. The line reformed, slower this time, and A. Tree lowered his arms. He would keep giving, but only at a pace that wouldn't break him completely. He had learned the difference between generosity and surrender.