Stolen Kiss

Flash Fiction by Lisa-Dawn Bertolla

We had both known that it was only a matter of time before one of us would pluck up the courage to steal a kiss. Whenever I looked at him I could see his longing, sense his desire and would then watch helplessly as he fought, and lost, his battle with shyness.

I knew he wanted that kiss as much as I did but we were both so young and inexperienced, scared really. Funny how I always thought that he was more afraid than I; worried of offending, probably as terrified as I was of rejection and although his fear gave me courage I always lost my nerve in the end and backed off at the last minute.

Today was different. Today I had to find courage.

My hair fell over my eyes as I bent low and then, we were there. My mouth soft and warm on his. A tear escaped me and flowed to freedom. This wet token of sorrow fled to his cheek as though he himself had shed it. Slowly, I drew my lips from his and whispered goodbye. Silently, impaled on my pain I watched as they closed the lid and carried his coffin away.


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