Bathed in the sun’s warm rays, I lie on the soft grass, the sticky coolness of my orange Popsicle dripping down onto my fingers. I lick them clean and take a slow, deep breath as my eyelids flutter and then close. In the distance, my mother calls to me. I’m coming… But the buzz of a nearby honey bee lulls me to sleep, and the orange treat falls to the grass as I drift away.
From the prompt "Orange" at Five Sentence Fiction.