Nessa had one hand on her left hip, while the other was pointing upwards—at the large fruit of the mango tree. She was salivating and craving mango with shrimp paste. “Vicencio, reach that for me!” she ordered her husband.
Viz scratched his head in thought, one hand tightly gripping a large branch of the tree. The branch he was currently holding was thicker than his arm. He was likely afraid of falling again, like what happened behind the market when he climbed the mango tree there.
“That's too far, honey, is that really what you want? Don't you want this one instead?” He pointed to the fruit just above him that he could easily pick.
She made a face. “I don't want that. I want that one.”
“It seems like you're not worried about your husband,” he complained. “I might fall from here.”
“I
