Tiny Tales

When Sheila had complained to Adam in the break room how hard it was to make ends meet, he was quick to suggest taking turns bringing each other lunch in. Half joking, probably, but she said yes anyway.

She threw together glorified lunchables and pasta. He made spinach apple salad, like some sort of private chef. Last Friday, he made fish tacos. No cilantro. Did he remember her disdain for the soapy taste? No way. Still, the lucky guess made her smile all day.

Today, Sheila almost skipped into the office to find out what culinary feat he had in store. “What’d you bring me this time?” He smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” As he handed her a tupperware dish, she brushed against his strong hand briefly. Glancing down, Sheila couldn’t help but daydream of him smoothly chopping an onion.

“No peeking till lunchtime!”, he laughed. He turned away before seeing her blush.

When he disappeared into his cubicle, she noticed how light the container was. Had he given up on her? Was this one of those airy French dishes? Or worse, a prank? She agonized all morning until the office clock finally flipped to twelve.

She practically ripped the lid off. Empty???

Before she could frown, she looked up into the friendliest eyes she knew. Her heart skipped a beat.

Adam reached out and took her hand. “Come join me at Enzo’s across the street.” He wasn’t asking, and he didn’t need to.

She was already his.

Originally submitted to the NYC Midnight 2025 250-word microfiction challenge.
Provided prompt: [Genre: Romance | Action: meal prepping | Word: feat]