But he had not been able to sort out and put words to the source of his confusion, so he had let it pass.
It had happened during the recreation period, when he had been playing with Asher.
Jonas had casually picked up an apple from the basket where the snacks were kept, and had thrown it to his friend.
Asher had thrown it back, and they had begun a simple game of catch.
There had been nothing special about it; it was an activity that he had performed countless times: throw, catch; throw, catch.
It was effortless for Jonas, and even boring, though Asher enjoyed it,
and playing catch was a required activity for Asher because it would improve his hand-eye coordination, which was not up to standards.
But suddenly Jonas had noticed, following the path of the apple through the air with his eyes,
that the piece of fruit hadwell, this was the part that he couldn’t adequately understand—the apple had changed.
Just for an instant. It had changed in mid-air, he remembered.
Then it was in his hand, and he looked at it carefully, but it was the same apple. Unchanged.
The same size and shape: a perfect sphere. The same nondescript shade, about the same shade as his own tunic.
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