tall and thin, firm and sharp

I see you as the train pulls into the station, not much more than a tall, thin figure in my periphery, standing on the platform. You seem to catch my gaze, which I promptly avert, but you still place yourself directly before me as you board. I’ve been told not to stare. I have learned not to stare. Yet there you stay, your long legs covered only slightly by a patterned sun dress. There is no hint of annoyance or self-consciousness in your face. You look casually through a magazine, your profile revealing a sharp nose and firm, sharp lips. It takes a great deal of effort to not gaze incessantly, but you seem to know, you don’t seem to mind. And as I slip by you to exit the train you look up from your reading and straight at me.

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For the Intermittent Writer


Short books about albums. Published by Bloomsbury.

The Wink

This Week in Kink

Zoë Tersche

Freelance writing focusing on internet freedoms and surveillance along with sexuality and gender in media and tech.

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