I walked into kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks by what I saw. The woman standing in front of the refrigerator looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place her. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, but didn’t want to be caught staring.
She was taking a selfie, which seemed kind of strange to me. Why in the kitchen? And why was she wearing sunglasses and a hat? She wasn’t smiling for the selfie. She had more of a pouty look.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I need to get a beer out of the refrigerator.” She seemed almost stunned by my presence, as if she hadn’t noticed me walking into the kitchen.
She looked at me without moving or saying anything and I was sure she was irritated by being interrupted. “Do I know you?” she asked.
“It’s possible,” I said. “I work with Jim, which is why I am here at Jim and Sarah’s tonight. If you’re a friend of theirs, perhaps we’ve met at some point.”
“Let’s get outta here,” she said, grabbing my arm and literally pulling me out of the house, where she grabbed me and kissed me.
The rest, as they say, is history.
Written for today’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt from Donna McNicol. Photo credit: Colby Renee.