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Accident - A Flash Fiction

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"I don't really know how to date anyone," she tells me across the table.  We stare at each other over the shitty cracked table cover and the bland food.

"You've been married," I point out, spearing a wilted broccoli head.  "That implies - " I grin "- just a bit, that you've dated before now."

She laughs, and it's a delightful sound.  "No, I mean, it's like coming to this restaurant. We didn't plan on it, it just... happened."

"An accident," I say, and we laugh again.

Later, when our hands slip into each other's...  that isn't accidental at all.

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