When their limbs brushed in the jostle near their lockers, neither made eye contact or apologized, though each craved another such jolt of raw electricity. Would it be possible to lean an inch closer without seeming to do so?
Meredith opened and closed every zippered pocket of her backpack, hardly glancing inside. I could ask Jeremy for a pencil, she thought.
Catching his eye, she struggled to move her lips. What had she been about to say?
“Hey, Merde,” she heard from across the hall. “How’s it going?”
Meredith turned to wave and–spell broken–Jeremy disappeared into the crowd.
This brief foray into fiction brought to you by a friendly dare from my long lost friend Sean. I write quite a bit of fiction, but never in 100 words. Anyone else up for the challenge?