I bite into my apple, and it’s so juicy it spills out of my mouth and down my chin. Fireworks of flavors dance around my tongue—sweet and a touch of sour, and so very fall. It tastes like popping When Harry Met Sally into your DVD player and curling up with a too-hot bowl of your mom’s chicken and dumplings. It’s like lighting a new candle for the first time or cracking the spine of your favorite, yellow-paged historical romance.
