He could barely concentrate on what she was saying. Something about civil rights or being a paralegal and the case she was working on. All he could think about was how the night would end.

She couldn’t remember a word he had said in the restaurant. Something about stocks and bonds and the factors involved in risk management. She could only visualize the impending goodbye at her front door.

Now, here they are– fingers dovetailed, barely an inch separating them, lips closing in. Then music swirls, cupids circle, fireworks in the air – the whole shebang.  They are on cloud nine.


Friday Fictioneers is a meme by Madison Woods

Now hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields