Just so that people stop telling me that only women do this kind of thing:
I woke up this morning unnaturally early, with a sick feeling in my stomach. I went downstairs while my wife and daughters slept to make some coffee. I noticed a little pink water beneath the watermelon sitting on the counter. I picked it up, only for watermelon water and pulp to gush out all over the counter and floor. Evidently it had been bruised or something, but I took it as a kind of sign on this Independence Day in this year of nightmares, 2018.
And a bit later in the post:
Nowhere may be safe from the rising tide of hate submerging the world.
It’s true that an immigrant is always an immigrant. I will never feel sufficiently self-important to see signs that watermelons approve of my politics and to engage in the national pastime of extreme self-pity.