there were orange and lemon trees in the backyard of my grandma’s old house in los angeles. i used to play under them when i was little, scoop up the fruit dropped from the branches off the bricks that carpeted her garden, and play catch with the dogs – or pelt whichever uncle i could catch. i wondered how the leaves (keep in mind i was 8) turned into the heavy, ripe fruit and if they knew it too like i did that being a leaf was just one step before something else
R. S. Brandriff (they/he/she) is a writer, poet, and software developer living in the American Southwest with their two cats and far too many coffee mugs. They write about love, neurodivergency, and the apocalypse, and you can find them on Twitter @_hedgebones writing microfiction, and on their website, hedgebones.com