Al's Market Has The Best Selection

Flash Fiction by G. Lynn Brown

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It was so unlike her, but she wasn’t letting this chance get away. She took a deep breath, fluffed her hair, and hurried back to aisle seven. 

Good! He was still there perusing the soup section, and wow! Who would think a man could look that sexy standing in a dimly lit aisle of Al’s Market, biting his lip, his glasses slipped down his nose, reading the label of a soup can, but there he was, looking every bit of it and then some.

Her cheeks burned, and her palms dampened, and she noticed the scent of lavender as her antiperspirant kicked in. She felt like she boiled from the inside out. 

Just her luck. She finally ran into this walking dream of a man somewhere other than his office, and now she was about to spontaneously combust.

Okay, she had to get herself together before he chose his soup and ambled off to another aisle or, worse, to checkout.