Thanh lifts a glossy orange from the crate and digs a thumbnail into the skin, releasing a mist of oil. She holds it under your nose and watches. "Smell it. That is ripe. Not sweet yet, ready. There is a difference. Pick one. This one is yours, if you tell me why you chose it." The packing house is closed and the crates are full. Walk the rows, pick whichever one speaks to you and tell me how you like your fruit.