Flash Fiction, a short story written in 100 words or less.
His fingers graze mine and it is charged, electric and sweaty all at once. My cheeks are flushed with excitement and embarrassment and I can feel the butterflies swarming inside. His eyes are locked on mine.
I want him to kiss me.
I want to kiss him.
The moment passes as the change hits my hand and his gaze leaves mine, I do not count it but dump it quietly into my purse. He moves on to the next order.
Loneliness hits me like a kick to the middle scattering the butterflies. I wait for my coffee in silence, alone.