The Garden Visitor

Camila had grown tomatoes in the community garden for two summers. This year, though, something strange kept happening. Every few mornings, she would arrive to find one or two tomatoes missing from the vine. They were always the reddest, ripest ones.

At first she blamed birds. But birds usually left marks or torn leaves behind. Her plants looked untouched except for the missing fruit. She began checking her plot every single morning before work, just to see how much had disappeared overnight.

After a week of this, she mentioned it to another gardener. His name was Farid, and he tended the plot next to hers. "It might be raccoons," he said. "They're clever, and they know exactly which tomatoes are ripe."

Camila wasn't fully convinced, since raccoons usually left the vines a mess. She decided to find out for herself. One evening, she brought a folding chair and a book. She waited quietly near her plot until it got dark.

Around eight o'clock, she heard a rustle near the fence. A small boy, maybe seven years old, was carefully climbing through a gap in the fence. He walked straight to her tomato plants and picked the two ripest ones, just like every other night.

Camila stood up slowly so she wouldn't scare him. "Hi there. These are my tomatoes, you know."

The boy froze, clearly embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "My mom says we can't afford good vegetables right now, and yours always look so nice."

His name was Milo, and he lived in the apartments across the street. Camila felt her frustration melt away completely. She showed him how to tell when a tomato was truly ready to pick. She also offered to let him take a few each week, as long as he asked first.

From that point on, Milo visited her plot openly. Camila found she enjoyed the company almost as much as the tomatoes themselves.