The sign above the table felt more like a challenge than a welcome: Don’t cheat. Pick a candy apple to see how honest you really are. Mara stopped in front of it, not because she believed a simple choice could define her, but because honesty had always been something she approached carefully. The table itself looked ordinary, covered with a neatly arranged cloth and rows of glossy apples standing upright on wooden sticks. Around her, people laughed and made quick selections, treating the moment lightly. Mara stayed still, aware that her decision felt personal, as if it reflected something she usually kept to herself.
She studied the apples one by one, each offering a different appeal. Caramel suggested comfort and familiarity, while the classic red apple felt straightforward and uncomplicated. Cookies and cream seemed indulgent, and birthday cake carried an exaggerated sense of cheer. Her attention drifted toward the less familiar options: chili with its bold shine, pistachio with its textured surface, and lemon, bright and unapologetic. These choices didn’t try to please everyone. Instead, they stood out by being different, almost challenging her to choose something that matched how she felt rather than what was expected.
After a long pause, Mara reached for the lemon apple. The color caught the light as she lifted it, drawing a brief glance from someone nearby. When she took a bite, the flavor surprised her. It was sharp and sour, but clean and refreshing. It didn’t hide behind sweetness or try to be comforting. As she tasted it, she felt a release of tension, thinking about how often she had softened her opinions or ignored her own limits for the sake of ease. The lemon didn’t allow that kind of compromise, and the realization made her smile.
Stepping away from the table, the sign no longer felt intimidating. The choice hadn’t revealed a secret about her character, but it had offered a moment of clarity. While others compared their selections and joked about meanings, Mara understood something simple and lasting. Being honest didn’t require drama or approval; it meant choosing what felt right, even if it stood apart. As she left, the lingering taste reminded her that authenticity didn’t need to be polished to be meaningful—it just needed to be true.