Kiss the Stranger

Normally I could only reach the low-hanging fruit, and I’d already eaten those long ago. That meant I wouldn’t have any until the next crop ripened. I had to watch them dangling above and feel disappointed—until he solved it simply.

Perched on his arm, I easily reached up to pluck the fruit. I could never have imagined such a thing. No ladder, no climbing tree—just sitting on his arm, and I could pick them.
“I thought I’d never get to eat these again. This is wonderful.”
I gripped a ripe date with both hands, my laughter bubbling up uncontrollably as more fruit piled neatly at his feet. It had been so long since I’d felt such happiness.

“What’s so great about it?”
He smiled at my wide grin and asked. I answered in an excited voice.
“I never thought I’d be able to eat whatever I want—and I was always alone before, but now you’re here. Talking together, picking fruit…”

I paused, suddenly embarrassed, and added hastily.
“And there’s so much to eat now. It’s the first time since I was a child. I’ve been starving all this time…”
My voice trailed off as a painful memory flickered. He frowned.

“You like picking a few fruits so much?”
“Yes. …And being with you.”
I answered honestly and nodded. At that he gave me a gentle smile. Maybe he found it ridiculous, but I didn’t care. Someone listened to me, someone I could talk to—that was enough. I chattered on excitedly—this was good, that was good—while he listened quietly.
“Especially these dates. They’re delicious and so versatile. These are my favorite.”

I laughed as I rubbed a fruit against my cheek. I’d already picked everything within reach, and the new saplings were too small to bear fruit. Thanks to him, I’d gotten the upper clusters, and my heart swelled.
“To eat as much as I want—it feels like a dream.”
“…….”

He looked up. Many fruits still remained.
“Pick more.”
“Huh? No, this is enough.”

“Pick them all.”
He urged. I caught on. He must be very hungry—this wouldn’t even fill him. Obediently I stretched my hand and plucked. When I thought I’d done enough and looked down, he frowned.
“I said pick them all.”

I hesitated, then spoke.
“If we pick them all now, there’ll be nothing left next time… This is plenty for quite a while.”

He paused, then seemed to agree. Without a word he moved aside. We picked a few more, then headed back to the hut.

“I’ll get down now.”
I said, but he ignored me and continued walking. Carrying me from one end of the oasis to the other felt guilty—even for him, it must be hard.
“I can walk, you know. You can put me down…”

He interrupted me without looking back.
“Just hold on tight.”
I clutched the last fruits in my arms and fell silent, hugging them so none would fall.
The walk back felt both shorter and longer than usual. His arm held me steady with almost no sway. Cradling the fruit in both arms, I leaned fully against his shoulder.

His body was hotter than before—no wonder after wielding me and the heat of the sun. Yet I hardly sweated. In that still air, only my rapid breath echoed, so I held it in.
At last we reached the hut and he set me down gently. I stumbled slightly, but he caught my arm and steadied me.
“Thanks….”

I lifted my head and froze—he was still holding my arm, looking down. I half expected a kiss. Would it be alright after carrying me so far? I closed my eyes cautiously.
“…….”
I waited for his lips to come—but they never did. Growing tired of waiting, I cracked open one eye. His head was too high; I reluctantly lifted both eyelids and met his violet eyes. He smiled and said.

“You thought I’d kiss you?”
My face burned. I blinked wide when suddenly he bent and pressed his lips to my lower one, traced it ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) with his tongue, then lifted his head.
“You were right.”

Seeing his teasing grin made me realize he’d been playing with me. I almost hit him, but both arms were full of fruit. I tried to kick his shin but he dodged swiftly, as if expecting it. I frowned at him, and he let go with a chuckle, following me inside. There was no losing him in such a small space—he’d catch up instantly, even outdoors with that stride.
True enough, he quickly caught up and began taking fruit from my arms one by one, placing each on the floor. I waited patiently. When he took the last one, he suddenly kissed my cheek. I cupped it with my free hand as he grinned and juggled a fruit lightly, catching it with his other hand and setting it atop the pile.
“Done.”

“…….”
I noticed he’d been kissing me often. Was he just affectionate or was this a habit even without memories? I couldn’t tell, and missed my chance to scold him, my cheeks burning.
“How many of these do I have to make?”

He asked as I took my seat at the workbench before me, trying to get some work done before supper. I sat up straighter.
“Three this month.”
“How long does one take?”

“About twenty days each…?”

With my workload tripled, I’d have to rush three times as hard. He furrowed his brow, and I hastened to add.
“But there’s more needed this time—if we can, I’d like to buy extra fish for Rikal…”
Rikal meowed and wove between our legs as if he understood. I laughed and petted him. Frowning, the stranger said.

“How about you eat first? That cat seems to eat more than you.”
“Wh-what… No, Rikal is so skinny!”
I held him up to prove it. He meowed in protest, but the stranger didn’t agree.

“You’re much skinnier. I could grip your neck with one hand and still have room.”
I glanced at his hand and could only say,
“You don’t grab someone’s neck like that.”

Before I could be at a loss, he insisted,
“Buy more for yourself—don’t waste on pointless things. Stop buying medicines, too.”
“I need medicine… And you should have another set of clothes. You keep wearing the same ones.”

I couldn’t help it—his didn’t fit at all. I’d need to wash those soon. I glanced over him and decided I’d do laundry tomorrow.
“Where does that man sell these?”
He asked and I answered.

“At Al-Fatih. It’s the nearest town.”
“Is that so?”
He thought for a moment. I finally began work. He muttered to himself behind me.

“If I could sell them myself, I’d earn much more.”
I laughed.
“You think too highly of me. They’re not worth that much.”

No need to heed a man without memories—just be thankful, I thought. He said,
“Just because I forget doesn’t mean I lose my judgment.”
I flushed, feeling caught. When I glanced back, he added with nonchalance,

“If someone asked my reasons, I couldn’t answer either. It’s just how I feel. …I wish I could explain more clearly.”
“Your memory needs to come back soon.”
I laughed, and he looked up at me. He said nothing, just watched quietly. We both knew what came next:

He would return to where he came from.
My heart hollowed at the thought, and I hurried my weaving. He remained silent for a long while.