Ronny bit into a peach, and immediately regretted it.
The fruit itself was sweet, tasty, delightful on the tongue. It was moist and juicy, everything a fruit should be.
Months of dried, dessicated, and underripe fruit, though, had not prepared him for this one. The juice poured down his chin and onto his clothes, immediately staining them orange. His collar was damp, and the fruit continued to drip onto his pants, his chair, everything.
Ronny spluttered, chewing and swallowing the bite as he sat the fruit on the desk in front of him. He wiped his chin, but his clothes would bear the marks until he could get home and bleach them. He cursed under his breath at the peach, the fruit seller, everything.
He picked it up again and continued eating, more careful this time.