after he hung up, she
took an orange from the fridge and rolled it
between her palms
she first thought to bite, to
peel the rind back and sink her teeth deep
into the flesh
it promised a sweetness, so
saccharine and slack it was to her, but
instead she chose
the tug of longing, the
syrup thickness of indecency, a
fruit far sweeter
ataraxicat 