The Next Time

You weren’t expected. Obviously.

His door is open. She’s giggling. You hear his soft laugh join hers. She’s leaning over his desk, supposedly pointing at data, but her blouse gapes open to show what little cleavage she has. He looks. Of course, he looks. She catches him and purses her lips, the smile still there. Her fingers reach toward his face and as they are about to caress his beard, you step in the room.

“The car’s broke down,” you say, jangling your keys.

She leans back, no apology in her eyes. The next time you’ll be on the interstate.

 

end 6/16/2016

©S. Darlington

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