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Die Sonne brannte hernieder. Ich huschte in den Schatten und setzte mich unter einen Baum. Die Papaya schnitt ich mit dem Taschenmesser auf. Sie schmeckte köstlich, verführerisch. Während ich unschuldig meinen Blick den Baum empor schweifen liess, sah ich plötzlich in zwei blau-grüne Augen. Ich lächelte. Florence bückte sich und küsste mich auf die Wange. „Was machst du hier?“, fragte sie. „Ich esse Papaya und geniesse den Sommer“, erwiderte ich. „Und du?“ „Ich komme von