Flash fiction statement was provided by Henry Saro on my Facebook Fan Page.
One by one the stars of hope landed on my heart…
He brushed the napkin against his upper lip, smoothing away the curl of moisture. The tip of his tongue delved out to wrestle the taste lingering upon his mouth. He dipped his head forward as he reached inside his pocket for something. The action caused his dark hair to graze his forehead. He looked smart in the crisp white shirt and noir suit jacket. His black tie wriggled against the sharp contours of the white material.
He smiled a whisper between generosity and joy. His fingers folded around the napkin and he returned it to the table, smoothing out the tablecloth. Leaning a little way across, he cracked another joke to joyous laughter. Glittering eyes crinkled into narrower lines, enjoying the giggles of mirth trickling around his dinner companions.
Wine glasses clinked together.
He compressed his lips but his eyes remained jubilant and interested in conversation. The glass was brought up and the wine trickled down his throat. She watched the delicate sway of the Adam’s apple in his throat. He set the glass down and murmured something to the woman on his left. She giggled, giving a playful shove to his shoulder. A soft smile brushed his mouth.
The corner of her lips tweaked as she watched. Her softened eyes followed him from across the room. He brought the napkin to his mouth again, dabbing away the reserves of white wine. And then he saw her.
Something delicious unfolded in her stomach causing her to blush and look away. She ducked behind the counter, rearranging the wine glasses standing there and pretending she was doing work. After a moment, she steeled herself. Her eyes peeped over the edge of the counter.
He laughed at something that had been said, brushing away a stray lock of hair from his forehead. A bashful smile curved her lips. He glanced at her again. She almost fell over herself trying to hide from his sparkling blue eyes. Her hands eased down the front of her apron, flushing out the creases in a display of anxiety.
The maître d’ grabbed her elbow, telling her she was needed on the floor as some of the other girls were busy. She nodded bashfully, grabbing a notepad and a pencil. She circled the tables, enquiring amongst the patrons if they wanted more drinks.
His table looked at her with disregarding eyes, except for him. He had a slight smile on his lips, amused by her inability to let her gaze settle on his. As she scurried away for the bill, she heard the woman to his left comment on it to him, accusing her of being rude. Inwardly, she cringed. Would he think she was being rude?
She brought the bill, alighting at his side. They paid up too fast for her liking. She wanted him to stay so she could watch him smile all night. He came there often, never noticing her as she hid behind the bar.
His companions got to their feet. She moved to leave too, but he took her hand in his, his skin branding her flesh. “It was a lovely meal,” he muttered with the kindest of smiles. Her face burned and she scurried away as, one by one, the stars of hope landed on her innocent heart.
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