oranges

(07/00)

I sat down on a bench under a "BUS STOP" sign next to a small girl with purple-rimmed glasses. She was wearing a long black sweatshirt, at least two sizes too big for her small frame. She pulled an orange and a napkin out of the brown cloth bag with embroidered butterflies that had been lying at her feet. She unfolded the napkin and carefully spread it over her lap as a makeshift table.

She dug her fingernail into the thick orange skin, smiling triumphantly when it finally pierced through. She slowly began to tug at the edge of the hole she had made, the scent of citrus filling the air. A spurt of juice flew out onto the ground as a piece of skin fully separated itself from the ripe fruit, persuaded by her gentle hands. She jerked her face back in surprise and giggled. "I'm not good at this," she said in a voice young with laughter. She dropped the chunk of peel on the napkin and set to removing the rest of the rough covering, lips pursed with determination to conquer the orange border defenses and capture the sweet prize inside. Another oddly shaped sliver peeled off, and again the triumphant smile showed across her face. Her black hair tumbled over her shoulder as she set the skin down on top of the first pieces. She carefully pushed her hair away carefully with the back of her hand, not letting the sticky, orange-covered parts touch it. Strip after strip of peel came off in her nimble hands, and the pile on the napkin grew taller and taller.

Finally, the last tiny string pulled off, her grin spread larger than I'd seen it ever before. She swiftly split it in half and gently tore a single sliver out of the center. She brought it up to her mouth. I wanted to watch her savor the delicate fruit, but the arrival of my bus startled me, and I gathered my things and ran to the doors, shouting a hasty "goodbye" to the girl with the orange still waiting below on the bench.