‘I think we’re both wrong anyway. It’s a Native American myth I think. I can’t remember.’ I sling one leg over his and burrow my face into t...e humid warmth at the crook of his neck, that tender little fold of skin where neck meets shoulder. ‘Oranges.’ My voice is muffled against his skin. ‘What?’ I can hear the beginnings of laughter in his voice. ‘Navel oranges, the ones that sometimes have the little baby oranges growing inside them.’ ‘What about them?’ I wiggle away, dragging myself into a. Curling my stockinged feet beneath me, I sat upon the soft velour cushions, dark red like so much wine drank giggling between two friends reminiscing of the times long since past. Sipping the cocoa, steam tickling my nose I gathered a blanket to me then, shivering against the chill seeping in through the drafts in the window. It was an aged window, and had it’s fair share of cracks, and I soon found myself building a fire in the hearth, it’s steady warmth filling the room, beating back the. More

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