Sour Tears

Josef walked the orchard rows alone past the lemons, ripe as yellow suns, as the morning clouds hung low, exhausted from their rainy outbursts the night before. This trip had been his chance to repair things with Maria. But, when he’d discovered her in the orchard last night – head flung back, eyes closed, legs wrapped around the slim hips of a dark-haired man- Josef had staggered away in silence and anger. He plucked a lemon, and raindrops fell from the leaves onto his face. Like my tears. He crushed the lemon beneath his foot, wiped his cheeks, and walked on.

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