The farmers had woken up at dawn to reap the harvest, finally ripened after a long season of waiting. The trees, for their part, patiently held their wriggling fruit until some gloved hand cared to lighten their burdens. Baby season had begun. The workers sorted through the pink and plump offerings. The ones deemed acceptable were handed to a line of waiting men to be wrapped up and shipped out to couples who had been anticipating their arrival since the beginning of the season. Some, however, were not to have such a fate. It was one worker’s unhappy job to dispose of the crops that were not satisfactory. The man, face obscured by his hat brim and hands covered in thick, black gloves, moved robotically, perfunctorily, casting aside those who would not be welcomed into any home.