Little Innocent Taboo Patched Here

He had called it "the berry incident" with a grin that made her cheeks warm, though the real story was quieter: two kids, a forbidden patch behind the old greenhouse where the sun pooled and the raspberries grew wild. They'd trespassed because the sign said "No Picking" and because trees seem smaller when you're a little bit brave. The berries were sweeter in secret—more vivid than the ones in the store, sticky and bright, stained onto their fingers like tiny suns.