Limes

Her dress was pink, a frilly lacy concoction that highlighted her athletic build.  The tanned skin and freckles indicated she was into the outdoors. 

Their eyes met.  Her hand brushed his as they reached for the same lime. 

"I think you got it first." 

In his nervousness, he knocked the stack over.  His sleeve caught on her earring when they bent down to pick up the fallen fruit. 

"Ouch," she said laughing.  "Let me.  You’re tugging too hard."  Her hand was on his arm as she unhooked her earring first from her ear, then from his sleeve.  She smelled of vanilla and cinnamon, like the waffle cones his mother used to make. 

"Well," as she pressed the rescued lime into his hand, "here you go.  I think you earned it."  With a chuckle, she turned and walked away. 

He ran down each aisle, but she had disappeared.  To be so close and have said nothing at all, the disappointment was killing him.  He vowed to come back every day until he found her.  Then, he would be witty and charming.  He would find out her name.  He would at least manage to speak.

Four days later his search paid off.  She was in the meat section, looking gorgeous in jeans and a body-hugging white t-shirt that read Horses Are God’s Apology For Men.  And she was smiling at him. 

"Hi there," she said.  He stood there mute, paralyzed by anxiety.  "I can knock something over if you like.  Then we’d be even."  Her eyes twinkled with glee. 

With that he found his voice.  "I was hoping to run into you again.  I’m Dan."

"Well, Dan, I’m Susannah," she said.  "It’s nice to meet you."  This girl was trouble.  And he was in love.