It's hot. The sun is beating on the roof of the fruit cage, but where it filters down to Ruby, it's dappled gently by raspberry leaves. The warm sweet scent of crushed fruit is all around her, and when she goes home tonight it will linger still, on her coarse linen sheets, until tomorrow morning's shower. Not far from her, Oakley is picking raspberries and placing each one in the blue punnets like it's made of gold. His hands are stained red.
Ruby takes a deep breath, and then another. It's possible she's never felt so alive, so in the moment. She closes her eyes and prays.
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