Hankerchief 

She saw him, the man she would one day love. He was a plain man, a hard worker. She watched the sweat roll down his forehead. Standing there she knew life would not be the same. Smiling she took his hand and handed him her hankerchief. He looked into her golden eyes that seemed to be smiling at him. He wiped his forehead and nodded a thank you. Their hands were still clasped and his glance fell to her lips. They were pink and slightly chapped on the right side where she often bit down, only when she was anxious. As he took in the curves of her face he handed her the pink cloth and she let go of his hand. Going back to work he thought of when he might next see the woman with the handkerchief. Hopefully someday soon. 

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