The Orange

She was always funny. And remained so until the end. The untimely end.

Looking at the piles of fruit that people have brought in, my mind thinks back to that first day…

—————————————————————————————–

I couldn’t stop looking at her. Was I staring? I don’t know…I don’t think it’s considered staring when you’re straining to look out of the corner of you eye.

“How much would you hate me?”

She frightened me out of my reverie with her out of the blue question. But she was smiling the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen. So I nervously replied “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear-”

“How much would you hate me if I ate an orange right now?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, this was the most random thing I’d ever heard.

“You know, I don’t want to be the person you talk about when you get off the bus! The stranger that ruined your journey by eating a stinking orange beside you!”

She giggled towards the end…what a glorious sound.

“No go ahead. I like oranges.”

I like oranges?? Couldn’t I have come up with something better than that.

“Ah cool, thanks. I’m starving! This orange is all I have with me and I haven’t even got a euro with me to buy a euro saver in McDonald’s. Depressing.”

Ask her out. Invite her for dinner. She’d obviously love to have someone buy her a meal.

“Ha ha'”

Oh god…this was getting worse by the minute! Why couldn’t I speak!!

“I’m Isabelle.”

She smiled and held out the daintiest, prettiest hand I’d ever seen.

“George.”

When I got off the bus I held my hand to my face and smelt the fantastic scent of zesty oranges…and I vowed to find her again.

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About thenewsherlockholmes

I am a graduate of English and Sociology and am soon to embark on a Masers in Secondary School teaching of English, Drama and Social Studies. I love to write, read and in my head I speak just like I read 'Bridget Jones' :)
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