My cough was preventing me from sleeping, so I decided to get some water. I was standing at the kitchen already when a voice called out, “Let me in! Let me in!” The voice was so small it may be likened to that of a squeaking mouse, but this time, it was talking. I looked around to see if someone was around. There was no one but the scattered papers and books I forgot to throw at the bin last night. I listened carefully to see where the voice came from. It seemed like someone was at the backyard. I peeped through the hole at the back door and saw the lemon tree I used to spend time with when I was a little child. My initials were still there. I curved them as a proof that it was my tree. I laughed at the idea. The voice again called, “Let me in! Let me in!” My eyes opened wide in amazement upon seeing a lemon fruit jumping at the doorstep and calling my attention.
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I could not believe it. It was impossible. A lemon could not move and even talk. I walked slowly and peek again at the hole. There was the tiny lemon fruit still jumping and calling out to let it in. I slowly opened the door and the lemon suddenly jumped in. It looked at me as if it had known me before. I was still staring, mouth-opened, when it jumped at the kitchen sink and prompted me to come nearer. The lemon stepped on the knife and let itself get cut. A sweet scent suddenly filled the kitchen and entered my nostrils. The lemon invited me to come nearer and enjoy its aroma. Then it asked me to cut itself into two pieces. Still amazed, I obeyed right away. I handed the knife and cut the lemon crosswise. Juices came out of its bright golden body and as I tasted it, I run to get a glass of water. It was the sourest thing I have tasted ever since. The lemon called again and I noticed that its voice was getting weaker. I then realized that it was dying already. I felt sorry for the lemon, so I took it on my palm and stroke its smooth porous skin. The lemon told me to squeeze it and put its juice in a glass. I did it and as I was squeezing its body, scented oils came out. I was still enjoying the aroma when the lemon told me in a very low voice to drink the juice before it would completely die. I felt pity for the little lemon fruit, and so I drink up all its juice. My stomach almost refuted the sour drink but my tonsils felt relieved. I then realized that the lemon wanted to give me some relief. I looked again at the squeezed lemon fruit and found it lifeless.
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