Orange

It was raining.

Raindrops spattered on the concrete sidewalk, ticking away the seconds. A strange veil of heavenly tears covered the world, enclosing it in a glass sphere.

Maria was returning from lectures without an umbrella, without a raincoat, without any protection from the rain. A leather bag was slung over her shoulder, and in her hand she held a bag of fresh oranges. She was soaking wet.

People fled, hiding under roofs and umbrellas, trying to avoid getting completely soaked. Marysia walked slowly, savoring the sight of this seemingly simple yet beautiful phenomenon. She would have preferred not to move at all, not to go home at all, but to sit on the sidewalk and watch the world through the transparent curtain.

The drops caressed her face, reflecting gently off her delicate skin, rosy cheeks, and exposed forehead. This gave her immense pleasure.

Absorbed in this feeling of contentment and carefreeness, she reached the metro station. People looked at her slightly indignantly when she entered the carriage, soaked but with a huge smile on her face. It didn't impress her, though. She was an unfailing optimist, the epitome of a happy woman.

"Excuse me, aren't you cold?" she heard a loud male voice behind her.

She turned around.

"No, you're not, thank you," she replied, smiling at the handsome, dark-eyed man who appeared to be in his early thirties.

"You're soaking wet," he persisted.

"Really, don't worry, I'll be fine.

" "Could I have an orange?" he asked suddenly.

The request was absurd. Maria lost her bearings; the ground beneath her feet began to shift dangerously. She gave the stranger a confused smile and, ignoring him, turned away silently. She felt a strange pressure, something akin to anxiety, apprehension, fear.

The train was approaching her station. The driver slowed slightly, and the doors slid open.

"What's your name?" – she heard a question behind her, muffled by the sound of the gates opening.

As she stepped out, she instinctively turned around. People were leaving the carriage, brushing against the stranger, paying neither her nor him any attention. A slight shiver ran through the girl's body in response to the question, leaving an unusual feeling of fulfillment inside. The man was looking at her with eyes full of admiration and fascination.

"An orange!" he shouted.

She managed to instinctively put her hand through the net and toss the fruit to the stranger. Quickly afterward, the subway doors slammed shut, sealing a great mystery from Marysia. It all happened terribly fast, at an incredible pace. All these were fractions of a second, all moments echoing dully in her mind.

"Maria," she whispered, watching the man through the window as the train receded.

The girl stood motionless, watching the machine as it gathered speed. Colors blended together, ravaging its interior. Water dripped down her face, her hands, and the juicy oranges.

Without a second thought, she headed home.

It was raining.

Marysia glanced out the window and knew she had to take an umbrella this time, though she avoided it due to her penchant for getting wet. Many days had passed since her encounter with the stranger, yet she couldn't forget him. She looked for him wherever she was, often provoking fate by entering the subway at the same station and time as that fateful afternoon.

"Marysia, dear, would you mind buying me a few oranges?" her mother asked, seeing her daughter in the hallway getting ready to leave.

"Sure, what are you doing?" she asked, curious.

"Cake. That's why I want you to bring it quickly.

" "Okay."

She grabbed the umbrella and ran out of the house. The nearest store wasn't far, so she decided she wouldn't rush. She listened to the rain, the unusual music that came from the drops hitting the sidewalk. It filled her with happiness.

She entered the small shop, leaving her umbrella outside.

"Good morning, do you have any oranges?" she asked from the doorway.

"Unfortunately," the salesperson sighed helplessly.

She smiled at the familiar man and left, closing the door gently behind her. She had no choice but to go to another store, and luckily, there were plenty of them in her neighborhood. However, she couldn't find the fruit she wanted in any of them, and her watch told her she'd already exceeded her search limit. She called her mother and apologized for not fulfilling her request.

"Are you coming home?" her mother asked.

"No, I'll wander around. I'll be back when it gets dark," she said, and hung up the phone.

It was raining.

It was raining harder and harder, and Marysia was getting farther and farther from home. She visited one shop after another until she finally managed to secure the basket of oranges she longed for. She was happy.

She ran out and started heading home. She felt a growing urge to fold her umbrella and get wet. Without a second thought, she did so. She began carefreely running through the puddles and once again felt that pleasant, intoxicating lightness as the drops splashed against her face. But she quickly tired and slowed down.

"Excuse me, aren't you cold?" she heard a familiar voice behind her. "You're all wet," she said. "Could I have an orange?"

She turned around. Her hunch was right—it was a stranger. She was speechless.

"What's your name?" he asked, smiling faintly.

"Maria," she replied uncertainly.

Silence fell.

"Here," she dipped her hand into the basket and handed the man the fruit. He looked at her questioningly. "Here's the orange you asked for.

" "Thank you," he accepted.

They stood there in silence for a long moment. The girl was lost in the stranger's brown eyes, unable to tear them away for a moment. Millions of thoughts swirled in her head, preventing her from uttering a word. The man was soaking wet with her, watching her intently.

"Come with me," he said suddenly.

Maria was frightened. His proposal was as absurd as asking for an orange on the subway that day. Only this time, a smile wasn't enough. It was difficult for her to focus, to say anything rational, to answer him at all.

She remained silent.

"Come with me," he repeated his offer.

She looked at him, completely confused. She knew that if she didn't act now, she would lose her chance a second time, lose a gift from fate, lose this man forever.

"Where do you want me to go with you?" she forced out a few words.

"Where I want to take you," his tone was calm and composed.

The man was terribly mysterious. Even though she was terribly afraid, Marysia wanted to go with this man, where he wanted to take her.

"How do I know you won't hurt me?" she asked.

"Trust me..."

She remained silent.

"Fate has given us a second chance. I want to show you what I didn't show you then," he added suddenly.

This answer aroused Maria's immense curiosity, and at the same time fascinated her with its meaning and significance. She felt that the path she was taking was uncertain, danger lurking on every side. She was naive – she trusted him, believed his every word.

"Don't be afraid," he assured her with a smile, assuring her of his truthfulness.

They walked together in the rain in silence. They passed streets familiar to Marysia, delving into the network of apartment blocks. It was funny, but she had no idea what his name was. For some reason, she didn't care. She only knew she couldn't lose him, and the only way to do that was to trust him.

The girl lost her bearings as they made their way through the densely built-up areas of concrete-slab apartment blocks. The man was leading her somewhere further, somewhere beyond the familiar squares, somewhere beyond the boundaries of her imagination, somewhere on the edge of reality.

Suddenly, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it gently. The girl didn't resist, allowing herself to be led. The gesture was rather unplanned, which made Marysia feel incredibly special. No one had ever treated her in such a subtle way before, she had never experienced anything so irrational and unusual. And suddenly, the fear and anxiety vanished, the worries dissipated in the rain. Marysia felt peace.

They reached a huge metal gate. It was already dark, and out of the corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of the clock. It was striking 8:00 PM.

Maria hesitated whether she should enter. The man was still a stranger, a foreigner, someone capable of anything. She stopped before the gate, gazing at the enormous house.

"What if I don't come in now?" she asked in a muffled voice. She wanted to play his game of absurdity with him.

"You'll do whatever you want. I can't force you," he said calmly.

Without hesitation, the girl turned the handle. She crossed the threshold of a mysterious house, belonging to a man she didn't know, under completely insane circumstances. If this wasn't fate, then what was?

He led her inside, helped her take off her coat, and hung it on a wooden coat rack. Everything happened in silence. Maria didn't know what awaited her now – whether the man, so far so likable, would suddenly turn into a tyrant, trying to exploit her, or God knows what else. She trusted the magic that had taken over her and robbed her of her rationality.

He grabbed her hand and began to pull her along. Maria surveyed the house's décor, admiring the opulent interior. She'd known from the start that the man had money and was well-to-do. She was rarely wrong, so she was right about this, too.

"Close your eyes," he commanded as they stood before the white door.

The girl stopped at his words and covered her face with her hands. An incredible sense of excitement swept over her.

A moment later, she heard the door open. She immediately smelled a strong scent, but couldn't identify it. It filled her, making her even more impatient.

"Watch out for the step," he warned.

Gently holding her hand, he led her deeper into the room. The room was pleasantly cool, the air fresh.

"You can open now," he said.

A breathtaking sight met Maria's eyes. The glass-enclosed room was filled with tall orange bushes, now gleaming in the moonlight. Juicy fruit sparkled among the green leaves like stars in a cloudless sky. In the center stood a glass table with two chairs, and beside it a carelessly draped snow-white bedclothes. Maria's breath took her breath away, she was simply speechless.

"Do you like it?" he asked suddenly.

"Do you like it?" she stammered. "It's wonderful here!" she exclaimed with delight.

"Choose an orange," he commanded, watching her every move. "Choose it and take it with you."

The girl stepped into the room and began to examine the green bushes. She carefully examined each fruit, trying to find the perfect one. This brought her immense joy.

Once she had chosen the roundest orange, the one with the most intense flavor, the one she thought was the most wonderful of all, she plucked it and smiled at the man in gratitude.

"You didn't even ask my name," he said suddenly.

She was silent. Inside, she felt shame.

"Why did you trust me?"

A moment of reflection shrouded in nervous silence.

"I didn't trust you, but the magic that led me here. I don't know why. Maybe because it all seemed absurd to me from the start, and my life was waiting for just such an absurdity—a moment of pause. "Maybe I was looking for some sensation, something to break the monotony that torments me. Maybe I was simply looking for you." She couldn't believe she had subconsciously wanted to provoke the man so badly.

"You weren't looking for me. You were looking for that orange." He looked at the fruit Maria held in her hands. "When you tossed me one just like it, I knew you'd be asking fate for it." Chance, or perhaps fate, allowed me to meet you again. I only wanted to give her to you.

Maria didn't know what to say. Suddenly, her senses and desires awoke. She longed for the man to throw himself at her now, for them to fall together on the covers, passionately celebrating their encounter. Didn't he want that?

"I came here not for the orange, but for you, for you." She knew she desired this man from the first moment she fell in love with his eyes. She feared nothing; on the contrary, she dreamed of sexual intercourse, now and here, regardless of the consequences.

"I won't give it to you. I won't give myself to you," he replied. "Not now," he added.

Maria's face glowed crimson. She felt her cheeks burn, her body burn, shame burn inside her.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I have to go back," she added quickly.

She hurriedly headed for the door, leaving the orange paradise. She covered her eyes with her hands so as not to meet the stranger's gaze again. She ran out. The man didn't stop her; he knew he'd be back. He wasn't wrong—a moment later, she stood on the threshold of the glass room.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Orange," he replied in a friendly voice.

Maria smiled to herself. She ran out of his house happy. She knew he'd be back soon.