Just a drabble. Possibly Canonical. Enjoy


They'd shared an orange once, on a quiet starlit hill, a corpse cooling beside the shoes Dru had kicked off in a fit of merriment. He wrote her a poem on the long stripe of orange skin and she carried it with her until it stopped smelling of sweet, spicy citrus, became only a fragment of words, and washed away on a tide of blood. It was funny, how universes changed - or possibly just changed hands. Dru had been his universe once, but now, presumably, belonged to someone else. And so did he.