Our Orchard

We chased each other between rows of plum trees. Leafy boughs drooped with blossoms casting shadows in our tracks.

We kissed when we caught up. I sank into your embrace wishing you would never let go.

But you did. A high school classmate was more clever than I. Grabbed your vulnerability. Clawed at your masculinity. You found her sexy.

I’ve returned. Standing across the street from a playground where our orchard used to be. The fruit trees were gone except for one.

Boys played rough ball games. One on a bench looked like you.

Love no longer filled that space.

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction and creative nonfiction. Her recent work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories and espresso stories.