Back to back the pair sat together apart.
They both heard the buzzer.
He thought it was her turn.
She, in turn, thought it was his.
They sat in silence, save for the click-clack of fingers on keys.
A second buzz. Longer this time.
The tapping of text intensified.
Eyes pierced screens.
The temperature rose in the room they’d earmarked as a nursery, but now called an office.
A knock at the door, then at the window.
He stopped, just briefly.
She sighed, deliberately.
Outside of the gate the Stork tutted, shushed the package, ruffled his feathers, and left.
This flash fiction/short story, call it what you will, was written for Friday Fictioneers.
I’m not sure why the last two stories have followed a slight theme. I can assure you I’m not broody!
Thanks to Rochelle as ever for hosting, and Jean L. Hays for this week’s photo prompt. Click here to read this week’s stories from other writers around the world.
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