Bookstore
May 28, 2018 - 192 words
There's a beautiful girl sitting at the next table at this outdoor bookstore. She's wearing a long loose dress with buttons opened down to the middle of her chest, exposing almost nothing. Her earrings are just two huge feathers, white feathers that hang like quiet pendants. Maybe it's just one earring. Her other ear is covered by a tangled fall of sandy hair swaying gracefully in the breeze. She sits cross-legged on a black iron chair, heavier than an anvil and loud as a friggin' car horn when scraped on the concrete ground. She has an old paperback propped open on her inner thigh and taps on her phone. The evening sun illuminates a redness on her exposed chest. I wonder if she's friendly, and how her friends would describe her. She looks up regularly from her book everytime someone passes by. She's brought her knees up to her chest now, revealing a smooth pair of shaped shins. She's rubbing them idly with her hand and in my own head I imagine what they feel like! Probably soft and delicate, like a down pillow. I have kissed a lot of beautiful women.