The green apple in the boy's palms shone like the Sun, making it look all the juicier and sweeter in my salacious, greedy, and corrupted mind than it ought to be in this time of the year. And now that I look at the slight smile playing in the corners of his lips and the mischievous glint in his stormy grey eyes, I feel myself sruggling to breath.

I don't know, when was the first time that I realized - the reality itself was transformed by my treacherous mind whenever I was in his proximity, but I wanted for it to never end.

As I reached for the unripened apple like the sick would reach for a cure, my warm fingers touched his cool ones, and I realized I was sick.

Sick and maddened for his proximity.