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By Lea Anne Stoughton
Last night, a Frenchman in a fedora gave me a cup of coffee meant for someone else. The embrace was meant for me. He whispered in my ear. I felt his longing shivering through his body. I showed him the inside of my car. It was an intimate and suggestive act. I drove away, coffee in hand, towards the dawn.
1 Comment
Roger
2/27/2015 02:17:08 am
I really liked this piece. It is a novel of suggestion done in a paragraph. Well done. Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
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