He sat and watched his own digits, entranced as he tried to curl them into a fist, tried to force a response, tried to find fire within himself to send them needed warmth.Street sounds insinuated themselves into his meditations, and he roused from the kinesthetic ennui. Engine noise and car horns purred and blared as the morning commute began while taxis rushing by the end of the alley reflected muted flashes of yellow and white. The sweet smell of exhaust slowly reached his nose, swirling around trash and dumpsters, propelled by venting of subway grates. The overcast sky was infrequently pierced with streaks of wan, sterile sunlight, and he shivered not from the temperature but from the lack of promise. The late autumn weather did not appear encouraging, so he struggled to his feet, ready to begin the search of some other source of succor."God bless," the woman had said, even then able to hold eye contact for but a moment. Just six months earlier he might have sat across a. He turns to say something and sees me taking inventory, and pulls up his sleeves and flexes for me. I giggle and pull up my skirt and turn around to show him my ass. He sighs in delight and says, “You win...”. “I always do!” and we’re laughing and smiling....completely comfortable with each other.You come in the back door, BBQ tongs in hand and watch us flirting for a moment. You smile and come over and greet your buddy with that slapping on the back thing guys do. You ask him sarcastically, “How was your day, dear?”, and he replies, “fuck my day”...You and I look at each other immediately and fall out laughing. I explain that you had said the same exact thing about an hour ago. The two of you fall into some conversation about carburetors or chain saws or some manly thing and I go back to my salad, listening in a bit but mostly fantasizing about later. You both take turns stealing glances at me, my bare, perky nipples under my t-shirt...my long legs, my manicured toes. I play.
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