Impulse

Philip Lawrence
Jul 12, 2021

She pushed the last button through, her fingers dallying over her heavy wool coat, her hair swept under her collar.
She rapped on the door. Twice.
One hand nestled behind her back, the one holding the bouquet of flowers, the small bunch purchased minutes before from the sidewalk vendor.
Does he even like flowers?
The door swung open. She smiled briefly, her gift coming round.
These are for you.
Her gray eyes flashed with delight as his hand took hold of them.
She dashed from the landing without another word.
Who are you? he called from the railing.
Only the echo of his voice returned from the stairwell, and another smile.

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