Lunch Hour

He wasn’t sure if that was her. The same girl Brett had seen for a year from his window seat on the bus sitting on a passing bus going in the other direction. He sat at a table beside hers sipping on his coffee.

She turned her head to meet his eyes. “We finally meet, she grinned. “I’m Rosy,” holding out her hand.

A flower as pretty as she was, Brett thought.

“I’m Brett”, he smiled widely and shook her hand.

Brett moved over the her table when she waved him over. They sat nursing their coffee’s, and talking about current events. The hour lunch break seemed to fly by.

Brett couldn’t wait for lunch tomorrow.



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