Fruit at the door

I walked in through the back entrance of the building, whistling. There was a tune in my head, I couldn't identify it. Climbing down the stairs, I grinned at the lady security guard, and saw a man standing next to her with a plastic container filled with small clementines, kiat-kiat's we call them here. He noticed I was interested in the fruit and offered to sell me some. For P100 a kilo, he said they were sweet and seedless. The guard shared a couple of segments with me, I popped them into my mouth; juicy, citrusy, sugary goodness. The fruit-man said he'd weigh the fruits nearby and bring me my order.
A few minutes later, he comes straight to the door, a large bag of kiat-kiat ready for me. Pears and larger clementines are also on sale, but I only have eyes (and stomach) for the small fruit. He tells me he's here daily, and will have grapes tomorrow if I like, mangoes too. He promises to bring me some extra large carabao mangoes from Pangasinan, and adds me to his list of suki in the building.
I've begun peeling the kiatkiats, their skin is so thin, and barely any air in the body. The fruit segments are not dry, as you sometimes find in supermarket bags of kiats, and each one is as sweet as the last. Fruitman has made my morning even brighter than I expected.