In this city, all citrus fruit grows sweet.

Citrus, which smells just like Mother at the sink, washing. Mother, who had died so many years ago, now as vivid as actual, scrubbing oranges at the kitchen sink before breakfast. How many times had she done that? Year after year. Lighting the new fire of the morning. Humming. Her skirt so easy on her waist. Her hands so confident at the sink, and teaching Daughter that ground fruit—the orange that one can reach and pick from the ground—is not as sweet as fruit that grows high on the tree. Outside fruit is sweeter than inside fruit. Oranges grown on the south side of a tree are sweeter than oranges grown on the east or west sides, and oranges grown on the north side are the least sweet of the lot.