His sweaty palms and pits almost gave him away. Apprehension overtook his body causing an uncharacteristic stutter. He reached for her hand, toppling his wine glass. Burgundy liquid flowed across the table onto her lap. Horrified, he quickly pulled the small box from his pocket and dropped to one knee.
Rita Riebel Mitchell writes tiny bits of fiction every day. Some of it is published, some of it floats in the cloud.