The photograph only sets the tone for the colour]
He flung his arm on the seat behind her. It barely grazed her shoulder, but she was acutely conscious of him.
He’d made his move. She had to make hers.
Should she ignore it? Pretend she didn’t understand what he meant?
Should she respond, as her body was crying out at her to do?
He was a friend. Could they remain friends if she responded?
But every inch of her wanted him. Wanted him badly.
Whatever she did, could things remain the same? Why did relationships have to be so complicated?
She stared out of the window. Reached a decision….
Drabble(n) - an extremely short work of fiction exactly one hundred words in length.