At My Parents' Grocery.(children's story)

each morning at three-thirty my father wakes up to purchase the fruits and vegetables he will barter in his store that day. I hear his clock radio split open to life, Korean announcers talking quickly. We live in a small apartment, above the store, and his alarm wakes everyone

by means of four o'clock my father has showered, and he suiteds the trucks that globule off crates of apples, oranges, grapefruits, and tomatoes. Sometimes if I can't fall back to drowse I look out the forehead window and see him checking the fruits, holding them in his hands, smelling them. He nods, and the men load the ease ...