The Present Day

It was on the day when he fell and hit his head when he met death.
The people with their frame waited in line for their lives being taken and given back. He wasn't one of them. Doomed, or privileged.
It wasn't blood they were after. It was the cherries. Always the cherries.

He put a scarf around his face and left his apartment after 5 weeks. He walked to where the hole in the fence used to be, the house, the cherrytree. But the house was rebuilt, the fence new, the tree cut, and no cherries to be found.