Still bottlenecking.
Poor Brenda. The cosmos can really bitchslap a girl sometimes.
23. Lovers
They're caught in the doorway together. For a brief moment neither moves. Then, he takes her by the elbow and leans in close.
Surprise narrows her perception. It's the closest she's been to any man since… Well, since months before the divorce. The closest she's been to anyone, really, in almost two years.
She can feel his fingers around her arm, a light touch but a firm one. She feels his unshaven cheek against her own, the gentle pressure of lips near the curve of her jaw. She smells his cologne, something clean and mellow. She feels his breath, hot against the edge of her ear.
She feels small next to him. She can sense the curve in his body, the stoop in his shoulders, which are needed to bring his face close to hers.
Then it's over. He pulls away from her, leaving her a little dizzy and very cold. He takes his hand off her arm, his left hand, with that gold ring on the fourth finger. How is it his marriage survived while her fell apart so painfully?
He smiles thinly. "It's poisonous, you know."
"What is?"
He glances upwards and she follows his gaze. Someone has tied a sprig of mistletoe to the lintel.
She looks at him again. He is still smiling thinly. His hands are shoved into his pockets. She thinks she ought to say something, but can't think of what. He shrugs. "Happy new year, Miss Johnson."
Click a button, adopt a button, make a button happy!