Bathed in the sun’s warm rays, I lie on the soft
grass, the sticky coolness of my orange Popsicle dripping down onto my fingers. I lick them clean and take a slow, deep
breath as my eyelids flutter and then close.
In the distance, my mother calls to me.
I’m coming… But the buzz of a nearby honey bee lulls me to
sleep, and the orange treat falls to the grass as I drift away.
From the prompt "Orange" at Five Sentence Fiction.
