She held the salt shaker deftly in her right hand, tilting
it into her left palm until a small
dusting of salt covered it…she then pinched
her fingers on her right hand into the pile, and deftly sprinkled it
across the
food…quickly rubbing her fingers together to brush off every crystal. He watched her
fingers manipulate the
seasoning, remembering the same way she had deftly reached behind her, as
she
faced away from him and released her bra clasp, the fingers expertly releasing
the hooks and
eyes and catching the bra as it fell away from her. He had remembered this, with the light
splintering
in from the diner’s windows, as she seasoned her food in front of
him and in his mind he could still
taste the salt of her.
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