The Zombie Who Loved Papayas

Lily loved visiting her grandmother's house in Florida. Best of all, she loved the giant papaya tree in the backyard. It was enormous, with leaves bigger than umbrellas, and the sweetest, sun-ripened papayas you ever tasted.

One afternoon, Lily was searching for the perfect papaya to pick when she noticed something strange. Behind the palm trees near the fence, something green and lumpy was moving. Slowly. Very slowly.

Lily crept closer. It looked like a person, but with greenish skin and clothes covered in moss. It shuffled forward, one foot at a time, heading straight toward the papaya tree.

'A zombie!' Lily whispered, her eyes wide. But this zombie didn't look scary. It looked… confused.

The zombie stopped and sniffed the air. 'Papaya?' it said, in a creaky, rusty voice.

Lily stepped forward. 'You like papayas?'

The zombie nodded enthusiastically. 'Love papayas. Sweet like sunshine.' It smiled, revealing slightly crooked but not scary teeth. 'I am Zara. I was sleeping under the palm trees for a very long time. The smell of ripe papayas woke me up.'

Lily grinned. 'I'm Lily! Come on, I'll show you the best ones.' She picked the perfect papaya and sliced it open with her grandmother's permission. Zara's eyes lit up. 'Better than I remembered!'

For a week, Lily and Zara shared papayas every day. Zara told wonderful stories about the old days, and Lily showed Zara her grandmother's iPhone, playing funny videos and magical games. Zara was fascinated by the glowing screen.

'You know,' Zara said one day, 'I was so grumpy when I woke up. Everything had changed. But your kindness made me feel happy again. Papayas taste better with friends.'

Lily hugged her green friend. 'That's what Grandma says. Food tastes better when you share it.'

When summer ended, Lily had to go home. Zara gave her a special gift—a tiny papaya seed in a little envelope. 'Plant this wherever you go,' Zara said. 'And whenever you eat papaya, think of me. Friends are never really far away.'

Lily planted the seed. And every year when papaya season comes, she takes a bite, closes her eyes, and remembers her friend Zara. Sometimes, if she looks closely at the palm trees swaying in the breeze, she thinks she sees a green figure waving back, papaya in hand.