“I suppose you’ll be leaving me now,” he said.
A half-eaten red apple she’d cut down earlier lay in the lush green grass.
That same grass in which he’d taken her to cool off from the midday heat.
What a liar he was.
No fig leaf could begin to cover her shame.
“Kind of. But a part of you’ll always be with me, you snake” she hissed, as her blade glinted once in the sun above his slithering form.
This microfiction was first published on my now defunct web3 site at markmcclure-dot-xyz.
Image by “Billyfam”
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