She sat right next to him. He was playing with his phone now, trying to look busy, not looking at her , deliberately. She considered poking him, even kicking him to get his attention. That wouldn't be “professional”, wouldn't be “appropriate”. The candidate would be out soon, and the work would begin. She'd be writing, recording. So would he. Then on to the next town. Shamed. Silenced. Forgotten. Last night, he called out her name. Pulled, pushed, kissed, advanced, retreated. Last night, his attention was on her. Last night, he looked at her. Last night.
Flash Fiction, fiction of 100 words or less. Based on a prompt found here
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