The orange juice was too expensive. The orange punch was on sale. Only the rich drink vitamins, but we’re rich in dreams. I mixed it up in a stolen beer pitcher, I liked it more than I thought I should. Orange drink. Mmm.
It’s the middle of winter but we still have fruit flies, so we leave the window open to periodically freeze them out. They always return. Little thoughts that breed memories like nostalgia. Disgusting. I slam the lid on them, out of sight.
One followed me to the living room, flew too close to the sun. I stuck my finger in the glass and it crawled out slowly, saved. Punch drunk.
I squished it against my palm and then wiped it on my jeans.
I felt bad, but only for a moment. Life goes on.
Until it doesn’t.