Passing the Salt

He touched her hand  while reaching for the salt. The moment bloomed. Sweat behind knees, breath like static. Not love, not even want. Just hunger disguised as recognition. She thought of myth, of moths drawn to flame, of consequences uninvited. The salt stayed between them, granular and innocent. Neither spoke.

***Faster than a speeding gummy, able to leap small buildings at a single bound Flash Fiction is a guaranteed page turner.