ORANGES

He picks up a succulent orange from the bunch.

Claims there’s something special about it.

He fingers it gently, searching for soft spots, imperfections.

Nails dig into the skin.

Layers carefully peeled off.

He picks up a piece and squeezes.

Warm juice squirts out,

staining his fingers.

His moist tongue tries to dry his soaked fingers.

He gently bites into another piece.

The tangy flavor makes his buds dance with excitement.

Minutes pass.

It is finished.

Only proof of its existence is the pulp stains on his mouth and shirt.