His lifelong affection for mangoes is a mystery to me; as long as I’ve known him, he’s adored them, and when mango season arrives, he becomes completely enthralled.
Mangoes were his daily fare that season, consumed for all meals in diverse forms such as juice, shakes, and ice cream, and he even organized parties dedicated entirely to mango creations.
Having tried all mango varieties and journeyed widely, his only concern is reaching mangoes, no matter the distance.
A mango ultimately led to his death. He possessed a specific variety, the red mango, characterized by its red hue. Upon blending and drinking it, he succumbed.
The autopsy findings reveal that the poison in his mango shake was in the mango, not something he added himself.
The presence of an alien maggot species made the substance a poison. It seems his infatuation with mangoes was his undoing. That was the day after which my mango consumption ceased, and I’ve harbored a dislike for them since. My dearest friend was lost.