desire

it wasnt something she should be feeling... it was wrong ... so wrong
but she was powerless to fight it

it was strange, this unwelcome feeling... it would come unbidden, washing over her like something sticky and pin-pricky but, if she were absolutely true to herself, not altogether unpleasant

she dreaded those moments... truly and deeply

every morning their paths would cross and she laid eyes on her heart's desire ... shivers would run down her spine

it was wrong
it was sad and ridiculous and wrong

she prays, with every fibre of her being, that nothing would ever come of it, no matter how greatly her heart protests

if only there was a different route she could take instead of walking past those donuts every morning