Saturday, August 9, 2014

Flash Fiction

At First Glance

Just across the parking lot, he was propped up against his rust-specked jeep.  I couldn’t tell if he was holding it together or if his weight was about to crush it.  Every afternoon I saw him in the same spot, doing the same thing, with the same nobodies, but I’d never really seen him at all.  

Not the soft, sandy hair that was just long enough to start to curl at the ends.  Not the muscled forearms peeking out of his cuffed plaid sleeves.  Not the sparkling green eyes.  Not the lazy, uninhibited, genuine smile that emerged when our eyes met.  

We’d been through nearly twelve years of school together, but I’d never looked at him in earnest.  My heart leapt, and my stomach dropped, and I gasped to fill the void they’d left in their shock.  My cheeks tingled and warmed as they lifted me lips to return the smile.

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