The Last Tangerine
Language: en
I had just started peeling it. My cousin walked in and said she wanted a tangerine. My boyfriend followed right behind her. He looked at me, totally indifferent, and said: "Give it to her. You can just have an orange, it’s the same thing." I looked at him—the guy who was supposed to always be on my side since we were kids—and compromised. "Fine. We’ll split it." Mom’s smile vanished. She snapped at me: "It’s just one tiny tangerine, half isn't enough to taste. "Is it going to kill you not to have a tangerine today?" Before I could answer, she grabbed my cousin’s hand and headed…