we are most alive in dreams

    Silence.
    Walter turned his head slightly to the right and the man in white was standing only an arms reach away. His stomach sank and he began to raise his rifle.
    Those big teeth came out and Walter couldn’t understand.
    “What do you want?” Walter’s eyes were wide.
    “What makes you think… I want something, Walter?” The man talked slow and his voice was like a hollow wind.
    Silence.
    “What are you doing here?” Sweat dotted his furled brow.
    Silence.
    “Answer me dammit!”
    The man in white stopped smiling and his eyes went a little dark, the way shallow water looks when the sun comes in from an odd angle and hits it just right. “I don’t like guns, Walter. Can you please lower your firearm. You’re making me… uncomfortable.”
    “What, do you think I’m some sort of fool? Oh no, I’m going to keep this rifle aimed right at yer chest until you tell me what your business is here.”
    “Well Walter, I’ve been looking for a place like this,” the man in white put his hands behind his back and began to pace, his bare feet gliding through the tall grass.
     Then, “I just really like oranges. It’s the rind, I think. It’s a lot like our skin. You see, our skin is somewhat gelatinous and flimsy but it protects us to a certain degree. It keeps out the rain and the sun. It looks good when we take care of it. Same thing with an orange, or in your case, blood oranges, which are divine if I do say so myself. Really quite a talent you’ve got. Anyways, where was I? Oh yes, skin. You see, the rind is delicious. I like to nibble bits of it while I eat the rest of the orange. Kind of like how some folks do when they eat pasta. Bite of noodles and then a small bite of bread or roll. Quite romantic if you think about it. But, pasta doesn’t have skin, does it Walter? No, it doesn’t. Have you ever tasted skin? I mean, real skin? It’s a little salty at first but it’s delicious otherwise.”