Looking

My mind is wandering. I’m sitting down at Bauhaus, staring out the window at the traffic. A reflection shifts across the window and my eyes automatically refocus; so now I’m staring at the window instead of through it. I space out for another couple of moments. Then I begin to recollect my thoughts, and my brain registers what’s being reflected in the area of the window that I’ve been staring at. It’s cleavage. One of the women sitting a few feet away from me is lifting her shirt out to show her friend a tattoo. I jolt back to alertness, lower my gaze, and open up the book I’d been reading.

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