She was home for the holiday weekend,
alone. Two years out of college, by now nearly all her friends were
married, and she was striving to be content with a burgeoning career
in public relations.
She spied the fried onions on the
lowest shelf, all the way in the back. She had to get on her hands
and knees to reach the closest package. She pulled herself out of
the shelf and sat up wiping dust from her shirt.
“I admire your dedication to green
bean casserole,” a masculine voice chuckled above her.
Amber's face reddened, “It wouldn't
be Thanksgiving without it,” she quipped, looking up and nearly
choked.
Before her, as handsome as the day
they graduated, stood her high school crush.
