bruised banana.

There was this girl; we used to make love. One day she accidentally picked up my coffee instead of hers, the way she shyly apologized and looked away nervously was strangely seductive. That's how we met, her name was Sheena.

Sheena worked at a fruit shop, which was great; I love mangoes. She showed me how to check the ripeness and what to look for when shopping for fruit. I used what she taught me on her breasts; squeeze gently, you want it to be firm yet yielding. She was always ripe.

It was a Tuesday when she found out she was pregnant. She was packing the bananas when I came in to see her; she was holding a bruised banana and looking down at it with a contagious contempt. That crayola brown banana made me anxious.

"I'm pregnant"

Fucking banana.

"What should we do?"

Sheena threw away the banana. Good riddance.

"I'll go to the doctors tomorrow, see what our options are."

It was a Friday when she told me it was alright. I didn't need to ask.

There was this girl; we used to make love, but now we just fuck.