Mangoes, golden and full, their scent~
a whispered promise of mischief.
My fingers sticky, my heart pounding.
My mother’s eyes—wide, unblinking.
“Where did you get these?”
Her voice, a blade slicing the air.
A hush fell around us,
the mangoes cradled in guilt.
“Mum, I plucked them from a mango tree.”
Silence—a breath held underwater.
Five minutes, five hours,
eternity suspended on her brows.
“Were you alone?”
The...
Continue reading...