Purest of Prose Entry: The Meeting

[balloonhat]

Drop a curtsy to the floor, heavy as a book, then pick it up hastily, hoping nobody snickers. Bloom a blush so wild it spreads like a pink weed over cheeks and decolletage, prickles pimpling skin like nubby thorns. Smile, not too wide, oh no, now it's a frown; hesitation jumps rope with lips, curving up, down then up again. What next, what to do, what step comes after public embarrassment in front of a suitor?

Lock eyes, forget key. Touch a heart, a total accident, and wipe reddened fingers off on collar lace, a total mess. Rules don't govern everything.