ORANGE SEASON

Is today that very day? Yes, it is indeed! I marked it on my calendar and set a reminder on my phone, but none of that was necessary. I have been waiting for it for a very long time. From that very morning when I first saw her, the girl from the apartment across. She greeted me every time we bumped into each other on the stairwell. I was ten years old when she moved here to live. The old metal door of the previous neighbors was replaced with a new honey hue, with a vintage golden handle. I remember how I used to tug at it and turn it, then run back to my apartment to hide and watch as the girl came out into the hallway in search of the hooligan. She always wore orange, and her hair was red, her face sprinkled with freckles. She matched the weather of our city perfectly, where warm autumn reigned all year round. The other boys from the building teased her, but not me. I defended her and would pounce on them with a loud scream, trying to scare them before I would strike. Even then, I knew I loved her and wanted to be her husband when I grew up. One day she left a little bag with homemade candies, of course, also orange, on her door handle. I think she knew that I was that very hooligan. Now, I’m looking through the peephole and waiting for her to come out of her apartment so I can go out to meet her. My heart is pounding in my chest, just like in childhood. In that very bag now lies my gift to her, and I hope she will accept it. It’s time!