synesthesia

The smell of the orange reminded me of triangles. The sharp pointy edges, leaking with citrus. Geometry and proofs, having to explain why the triangle is a triangle when it smells of orange juice and nothing more. Stacks of papers with homework and assignments printed in monotone with splashes of orange all throughout like the little perfume pages in magazines. The taste of the orange reminded me of my friend. The way his voice has a tangy infliction on vowels. The peel grinds between my teeth like his words trying to sink into my mind. Late night conversations about seemingly nothing with an orange slice in my mouth like a smile.