Baked apple

The simple stop at the post office to mail cookies to my cousin that should've taken not more than 5 minutes in fact lasted so long that an apple I left on the passenger seat of the car was half-baked by the time I got back. It was baked on the top, the part that was directly exposed to the sunlight. I had never realized that something like this could happen to an apple, although thinking about it in retrospect, it totally makes sense. I ate it anyway. A man standing in front of me in line to mail four Priority envelopes had collapsed and died on the spot, before my very eyes. The paramedics took 10 minutes to arrive, and then they thought he had a stroke. There were bubbles coming out of his mouth. He fell down right in front of me. I think his arm brushed against my knee. Then the police was there too and they had all kinds of questions to ask. I was a witness -- as if there had been anything to witness. Somewhere between the paramedics and the police I wondered what was going to happen to his mail. Like if it was ever going to get mailed. The post office employees didn't seem very concerned about it. They just stood back and were pale and didn't know what to say. I think they wanted to close for the day, but I just begged them to process my stuff. I mailed the cookies and the Priority envelopes and tried not to think about how the addressees wouldn't know about how they got mail from a dead guy.