Standing less than an inch away from her, he inclines his head to better hear her honey voice or take in her expensive scent. Smiling and laughing, he must be happy.
The joy I’d felt a moment ago vanishes, like frost on a sunny morning.
Straight black hair washes, like a midnight waterfall, over her shoulders. Designer clothes, I can’t even guess at, hang exquisitely from her petite frame.
I’m jealous.
I’ll never admit it. It’d inflate his already massive ego and make no difference, except demolish my pride.
Catching his eye, I smile then start talking to someone else.