You are my darlin', Clementine.

I awoke this morning to the delightful smell of citrus.

I inhaled deeply and rolled onto my back. The sheets had gotten all twisted underneath my body, so I readjusted. Wait a minute. Sheets don't feel like--

I sat up and looked down. There were peels everywhere. Tiny peels from tiny little oranges.

I threw my feet over the side of the bed and got out. A sad trail of torn citrus skins was leading out the door. I followed with a watery mouth.

Into the kitchen they led, all the way to an empty little crate. Dejected, I went to the pantry to eat some cereal. But there, hiding within the shadows of the pantry, were five more frightened little clementines.

I reached towards them and heard a shrill little cry.

"Please, don't eat us," one of the tiny fruits begged. It tried to say something else, but I was too busy peeling its friend.

"What did we ever do to you?"

Through the juice and torn meat of the chubbiest clementine, I simply answered, "You tempted me with your deliciousness." I chewed and swallowed, looked around and observed. Took another bite.

The four remaining clementines became three as I plucked another one from behind the potato chips.

"Why are you doing this!" they cried. 

I pulled a bit of peel from the bottom of my foot. Maybe I shouldn't leave peels around the apartment.

"You're a barbarian!"

After devouring another clementine, I picked up the remaining fruits as they attempted a roll to safety, not that hiding behind soup cans made them any safer.

As I finished the last one, I became a little sad. The next box of clementines is all the way at the grocery store. Perhaps I should buy two.