Cherries were red. Cherry tree’s leaves were green. Neluta’s blouse was white. Neluta was fat. Kids called her “Neli”. Round was the way I saw Neli. And her cheeks were round and her eyes blue. Neli kept biting her moist and soft lips to make them reddish. Neli and I used to stick flower petals on our nails with spit to make them pretty. Neli couldn’t have climbed in the cherry tree because of her roundness. I was the one to climb the cherry tree for her sake. My blue blouse were getting reddish and moist from the cherries stacked inside it. The cherries were touching my skin. Neli was touching my skin too searching for the cherries, laughing and pushing, and I didn’t know which one are the cherries and what type of leave is my skin. Neli was 7 years old. I was 6 years old. Neli fell in love with Robert. Robert was 12 years old. Neli showed me one evening how was Robert eating cherries from her lips. Neli showed me this while we were in the hallway inside my apartment building. In the hallway were Neli and I. Later on, my dad came and he showed me what type of leave my skin could be. Red and moist like the cherries. Even later, Neli asked me to come over her house to show me what type of leave Robert believe her skin to be. Neli looked like a basket full of cherries. I forgot to tell that Neluta’s cheeks were covered in freckles. Much later after that, Neli blossomed. As late as that, my dad cut the cherry tree down, from its roots. The cherry tree dried off. For me it was never this late.