The Thump

A ripe watermelon sounds deep when you thump it. Or hollow. I've read both. I've also read that it sounds like a knock on a door, which is a third thing, and I've heard all three come out of the same melon.

I use a knuckle. I've used a flat hand. I've tried the other hand, in case it was the first hand. Twice I've turned one over to look for the yellow spot, and on every melon I've checked, the spot is yellow.

Walt runs the produce section at our grocery store. He has watched me do this on Saturdays since June. He never says anything, which is the part I appreciate.

In July he walked over, took the melon out of my hands, put it back, and picked another from the bottom of the pile. He didn't thump it. I've checked.

It was perfect. It was perfect the next week, too.

I still thump. It fills the time while he finds the melon.

Last Saturday there was one sitting by the register with a Post-it on it. The Post-it was blank. I took it.