She followed the brown spokes and then turned.
“We’re like onions, the two of us.” He kissed her neck. “Just keep peeling and peeling.”
“I guess, but I don’t want to be an onion.”
His mouth hot on her ear. “Why not? Layer after layer. Just so much to learn if you keep peeling.”
“Onions make people cry.”
“They don’t cry real tears. It’s not the sad ones.”
“Not happy ones either. What about oranges?”
“or bananas? They peel.” She faced him. Four blue eyes.
Two smiles.
“So does sunburnt skin.”
“But that only peels once, then leaves freckles.”
The ceiling fan spun.
“Like scars”
Nose to nose, he kissed her lips.