This week, I'm participating in the Flash Fiction Project founded by +Becket Moorby. Each day, there's an image for inspiration and we all write a piece. I'm excited about participating just for the promise that I will, indeed, write something every day.
Today's image is:
My piece: Falling in Love
It had come to that moment.
It had been an excellent dinner full of light banter and flirtation. She'd been pleased to find that the step between "friend" and "date" hadn't been as awkward as she'd feared. She could still eat in front of him like a normal person and laugh at her lack of grace with chopsticks. He still ducked his head when he said something witty, just as he always had in all the years of their friendship. If anything, it was less awkward now. They could acknowledge the subtext. It was the first time they had both been free at the same time.
After dinner, they decided to walk a bit. He offered his hand, and she took it, pleased at the way her fingers fit into his. His hands were very warm. Hers were usually cold. It was nice. It felt so easy. It scared her at little. Love had never been easy. She worried there would be a catch.
He suggested a direction leading to an overlook, a view of the city below. She wondered if he was staging a kiss. She hoped he was. She knew him to be a man of romantic gestures, a man who thinks about things like lighting and ambiance, who holds snapshots of memory in the deep pockets of his heart. She giggled a little nervously.
He began to swing her arm, like they were children skipping together. She laughed again and, looking up into his face felt a lurch, a tug somewhere in the depths of her. It was then that she tripped. He followed her a step later, stepping into the same hole. Somehow they didn't end up on the ground, but standing holding each other's arms for support. The world stopped and they breathed together, still giddy.
If this had been a movie, they would have kissed there. But, this is real life, and they both felt suddenly shy, so they linked elbows and walked around the hole in the sidewalk together, to the overlook. Standing, looking at the lights of the city and its bridges below them, she slid her hand around his waist in an easy way, as if she'd always known how to fit their bodies together. "You think that's why they call it falling in love?" she quipped. He laughed. And that was when he kissed her.