The Last Tangerine

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?"