All Hands Against His Own

Sierra awakens near suppertime. Mouth dry. Heavy eyes.
No cigarettes in nearly five days, even outside.

House's empty.
She's about to make ramen, interrupted by a sound outback.

Johannes steering a wheelbarrow of barkdust, dumping it under the fruit trees, next to the mulch. Champagne fig. Gala apple. Majestic peach.

His shirt's off, bronzed chocolate skin glistening.

You playing farmer now?

Doesn't make sense to hire out. I can do the work.

One hand on his abdomen. His skin's so warm. Kissing his neck.
Pulls him beneath the peach tree, on the grass.
Unbuttoning his jeans, pulls her shirt off.