frangipani-flowers

Pepper traced the path to the apple orchard, abloom in spring fecundity. Seclused in shadow, she was barely adequate, as measured by GSCEs. She was waiting for Adam. The golden child, the chosen one on holiday from public school (full scholarship, of course). He’d called her. “Pepper, please; it’s important that I see you.” He came with Dog, that little pup that never seemed to age a day. He helped her to a sturdy branch where they sat side by side and Dog snoozed in forget-me-nots that drifted ‘cross the grass. He wove a flower crown for her from twigs and blossoms, took her hand, and said, “I haven’