C.A. Fray

The Waste

All I notice about today’s lunch line is Allen’s green eyes above the smattering of freckles across his nose. With practiced gentleness, I place my opaque glass tray on the rollers and take my place in the queue. Allen’s milk white skin flushes when he sees me. His gaze doesn’t waver as I approach. By the time I’m standing in front of him, my own blush is blazing from my neck.