A mischievous smile spreads across your face as you pull out and place a punnet of cherries in my palm. Though it starts with a disproving squint from me. Both of us dissolve into soft chuckling. Knowing how expensive cherries are at all times of the year. We share memories of cherries told as seldom as we have tasted them, as we get splinters from the pips, and dye our lips red with life. I can't help but believe billionaires will never know the world. They will never know how rich we are, in your struggles to pay for a bag of fruit, or in our empathy dyed red as the flesh of a punnet of cherries.