Chef’s Kiss

He murmured “chef’s kiss” and leaned in close.
She tilted her head.
He kissed the duck confit. Ardently.
She froze, stunned.
“Sublime rendering,” he sighed.
She stood up, pinched her thumb and fingers together, placed them against her lips, and blew him a kiss. “Chefs kiss yourself, tool,” she said.
***Faster than a speeding gummy, able to leap small buildings at a single bound Flash Fiction is a guaranteed page turner.
