orange
I smelled that afternoon. It was early for oranges, not even April. But that smell brought me straight to summer
and I saw two oranges, a week later, sitting in the sun on stone stairs waiting to be eaten.
A week after that my skin turned orange in the light coming from an imaginary beach at night
and stars shined as white oranges on the wrong side of the lake.
Ten days before that I had gotten orange hair.
heimdimension 