Spicy Hot
A disturbed hive.
Around eleven, I have to get up to get a file from the cabinet behind her. I pass so close that the hem of my jacket brushes her arm. She freezes, breath held. The skin of her forearm breaks out in goosebumps. I see it. I see it, and a wave of dark, immediate satisfaction washes through me. I linger a second too long, breathing the air she has warmed. Then I step back, as if burned.