Eulogy to A Peach

He (or she) died on the dining table, with our single ceiling light there basking him in artificial yellow light. I say that he died then not because that was when he died, but because that was when I found him in his rotting state and deemed him inedible no longer. He must have been rotten long before I discovered him to be so. Of the circumstances of his death, X was to blame. After nibbling him a total of three times, her attention strayed to her iPad, and the peach was abandoned on the table. I expected X to finish him by the end of the day, but the peach was there the next morning, on the table. I wrapped him in a napkin, and laid him on a shelf in the fridge, sure that X would find and eat him. Even after repeated reminders, the peach was uneaten. Annoyed, I took him out of the fridge and set him on the table today, in plain view, and when he still was not eaten, I unwrapped him and revealed his perished state. It had been a little more than a week since we bought him. Eventually X assumed an indifferent manner regarding him. When I informed her of his state, she laughed. The peach was a strong fruit, with gleaming skin a comfortable softness and a lovely smell. He was purchased fresh and firm in the farmer's market last weekend. Such negligence on the part of X lead to the waste of this unlucky fruit. I regret not eating him before waiting for X, or urged X more persistently to eat him. Here he rests, buried under the soil, untouched since long ago, and spoiled forever. May this peach acquire happiness and his remains bloom a new life.