First Kiss
The light hangs low over the table,
glances off the glass-fronted cabinet
where she keeps his childhood photos.
She goes out for butter.
He holds my head, kisses me.
You’re a pretty girl.
So this is what grownups do.
The door opens.
He springs back, winks.
We pick at the bread and cheese.
I glance into the darkness
beyond the edge of the table.
…
Judith has been writing for 20 years, and has an MA in Creative Writing (Bath Spa). She has taken part in readings in Bath and Cheltenham and has won prizes in the Ottaker and Faber and Gloucestershire Writers’ Network competitions.
atriumpoetry.com 
I find this very clever. It’s flash fiction really: it recounts small occurrences in a quickly-sketched scene, and it plays skilfully on the emotions and nerves of the reader. There’s such tension in the telling.
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Thank you! Judith
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