Isaac Newton's Apple
By Aaron Majewski
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The soft summer rays slanted down warmly, filtered through the heavily laden branches of the eighty year old apple tree. A tree which rumor had it was a slip from that very self-same arboreal which was so famous for giving the distinguished Newton a hand with his theorizing.
The warmth of the distant star high in the afternoon sky warmed Gloria, making her feel languid and desirous. Its warmth kissed her angular cheeks, slanting down beneath the shade cast by her wide brimmed straw hat, called a boater, with its pretty blue ribbon trailing down across her neck. She had kicked off her sandals, leaving her barefoot, and her long white dress was bunched around her knees, leaving her legs bare to the heat of the sun.