Garden

On either side of the apple we glare in accusing tones. We fault one another to the actions we both take, unwilling to admit our own weakness to the fallen one. To the temptation. To pure red sin. Glares like lasers penetrating our souls.
But it is both our fault. Both our choice.
The apple is a simple icon of angry boiling for ages in passing.

But a extra thick milkshake and that James make it all.okay.