“Uh hum,” someone cleared their throat, drawing her out of the moment. Startled, Shay looked down at a stocky man at least a foot shorter than herself when she didn’t wear heels. He wore an ambassadorial robe, clashing leather pants, accessorized with a bald pate, ruddy complexion and the worst case of acne she’d ever seen. But worst of all—he doubled her in age. Surely not. “Dayne?”
Be sure to check out the other entries in this week's Six Sentence Sunday.