Alfredo Salvatore Arcilesi
It was clear to Cynth that the girl and boy didn’t want to kiss. Not with her sitting three benches away. Not with their pushy friend egging them on, cameraphone framed and ready.
The scene she was witnessing was written and directed by genetics. The girl was cute, petite, armed with perfected feminine mannerisms, all packaged in a fall outfit that teased of summer treats. The boy was handsome, a model without a magazine cover, the world ready for his taking once enough testosterone filled his head with the notion. […]