"May I?" said Max, touching a yellow-skinned apple that hung just over his head.
"As long as you don't pick 'em all," said Olenka, swallowing her latest bite of ham sandwich. "Are you sure you don't want half of this?"
The branch dipped down, then bounced back up as Max plucked the apple. "I'm fine," he said. "Thank you."
Olenka shooed a fly from the half-sandwich on the newspaper in her lap. "So where have you been for the last fourteen years?"
"All over." Max polished the apple on the frayed and faded sleeve of his brown work shirt. "Coast to coast. Wherever there was work to be had."
"I've heard that story before."
"Hard times," said Max. "So what about you?" He took a big bite from the apple and leaned against the tree as he chewed.
"Hard times." Olenka's eyes strayed
