The air gets thinner up here, and so do the branches. You must be careful now. You remember all too well that time you fell from a tree as a child, your body winded, shocked into non-compliance as all you could do was wail in panic. That won’t happen to you now. You are not a child. You know where to put your feet, know how to judge a drop. You reach out to run your fingers along one more fruit, not enough to grasp it, but enough to feel it. The sun gets in your eyes now, with fewer leaves to shield you from it.