Hues of Love

Tangerine

TANGERINE

Love bloomed as the smallest flower. Tiny changes, miniscule in the eyes of an overseer, essential to Marya's heart occurred. Small acts, as Peter waiting on her after classes, made her heart flutter in a new way. He bought tangerine flowers for her on their anniversary.

"Tangerines?"

"Yes. Do you like them?"

"Of course I do!"

And she did. Marya loved the tiny orange buds, small enough she could tuck them between her books, her lunch breaks, flaps of her wallet. They loitered in the hallways of her life.

"I'm sorry they're not gold."

"We don't need gold."

Those orange petals found their way between the folds of her skin, in the creases of her knees, under her feet. Little specks of love accumulated in her chest, warming her from the inside. Love was comfortable for the first time. After all, there was nothing to fear.

The smallest things, she found, did not break.