To change it up a bit, this week’s six are from a short story/novella I’m working on, “The Secretary.” On her first day at a new job, someone bumps into Jessica and the contents of her handbag spill all over the sidewalk.
“Is this yours?” asked a male voice.
I looked up into gray eyes set beneath perfectly tousled brown hair laced with streaks of gray. Despite being so much older than me, this man was quite possibly the most attractive male I had ever seen.
“Is this yours?” he repeated, smiling at me.
I looked at his hands and turned beet red, I’m sure, because he was holding the book I was reading, a trashy bodice-ripping romance novel. Why couldn’t I have grabbed Hemingway, Joyce, something that made me look smarter?
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