Thursday, July 3, 2014

"Instantly Infatuated" - Flash Fiction

I was panicking. I could feel the sweat beginning to approach the surface of my skin. My breathing was shallow, my face was flushed as I stood there in line, hoping, praying. They don't hire dummies here. She was smart, that much was sure, or she wouldn't be working here. And gorgeous. The kind of beauty that leaves a man attuned to line and harmony and grace and softness and feminity speechless. I was instantly infatuated.

A million thoughts entered my mind in that instant - love, marriage, babies, thunderstorms, European vacations, reading our separate books over coffee in the morning, wine tastings, hiking trips, concerts, waterfalls, unicorns,  tidal waves, prescription medications, adult diapers, volcanoes, dialysis, forest fires, hospice care, snow-capped mountain peaks, perpetual care. And sex and sex and sex and sex. I was instantly in love.

It was a feeling I hadn't felt in ages. Suddenly all my senses were in overdrive. It was almost too much to take. I needed to know her name. Thankfully I remembered that dating me would certainly ruin her entire life and most likely lead her straight to hell (not that I'm sure there is such a place), so I had the perfect excuse not to ask her out.

"May I help you, sir," I heard a deep voice call, and turning my head to the left, noticed the squat, avocado-shaped, t-shirted, stubbly creature from which it emanated. The love of my life was still helping someone else check out, so the creature would have to help me.

Thank God for that.