The Woman Sitting . . .

. . . across from us bit into the cold peach.

The fruit's nectar bled out from the corners of her mouth, creating a thin drizzle that slid down to her chin and ran along the slope of her neck. Her lips smacking as she chewed.

"Eating a good peach is like eating pussy," she offered before taking another bite of the peach.

I looked at her, my eyes mildly disturbed at this image. "So what you're saying is that these peaches are gonna make my face itch?"