I walk in ten minutes before closing. I look for the eggs. All are gone. There are more in the back room.

She asks me to follow. Tank top. Red hair. Black-rimmed glasses.

I get close. We lock eyes.

It’s the kiss we’ve both been fantasizing about since I first walked in eight months ago.

The heat under her long skirt, for me.

The strength under my jeans, for her.

We connect in ecstasy.

I lift her skirt and she pulls down her thong.

This prep table is the perfect height. Cold surface be damned.