I can't stop it. Every week, as an appointment, I come back. It feels like a ritual, I'm all alone in my room when the soft orange hue covers my features, scaring the shadows away. My skin is now orange.
I glance at the fruit across the table and he glances back, like a mirror. Haven't I seen him before? Maybe it's my mind playing tricks on me. I close my eyes and try to recall how many others I've met here. Dark... An endless number of eyes, too many to remember, are staring at me from a pile of oranges. They are screaming... I know it, even though I can't hear them, because I can feel their bleeding, and their leaking, and their dripping and the acidity in the air that calls to me. They mock me and their blood, the damn cold orange juice flows like a possessed river towards me and fills up my right temple. I open my eyes and feel the end of the banana being pressed against my head and the thumping in my chest. The orange across the table is looking at me intently, waiting for me to make my move. I close my eyes again. Somewhere distant, maybe in a parallel universe, maybe in a previous life, I see a human, sitting in front of a computer. He's holding a wireless mouse against his head just like I'm holding the banana. I hold my eyes shut and press my teeth together until I feel like they're about to give away and sink into my gums and the human does the same.
I take a deep breath
So glad. So warm. So happy. The banana slides to the other side of the table. "Your turn."