Podunk

I didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. I wanted to lie on my side, knees curled up in the fetal position, and watch made-for-TV movies with the bedroom lit up through the blinds. My body wanted the rest, but my brain fought suffocating thoughts, so I went for a walk.

I ended up at the local coffee shop.

The espresso that I was drinking hit fast, and the effects of the caffeine had turned my urges up in HD. I wanted to cum, so maybe I was targeting someone as potential.

I noticed him from across the room. His features might have been rearranged in my mind. What I thought I was attracted to from afar might have been altered if I'd been afforded a closer look to let it all settle into view.

The face looked tight and smooth from a distance. I thought of the chiseled features of a mannequin. 

Was that acne on his cheekbones? 

His body was average. His hair dark. Jeans, Nike’s, sweater over a shirt. 


I turned away, and when I looked again he’d been looking at me looking at my phone, studying me - or questioning something about me. After that I kept trying to give him the opportunity to look me in the eyes, but he resisted now that I was aware of him being aware of me.



He got up from the table, dropped his disposable coffee cup in the trash, and walked out without another glance. It felt calculated, like he wanted me to think that I'd been mistaken. As if he couldn't be bothered to confirm what I was questioning about him. As if he needed to prove me wrong, that I hadn't really seen his eyes on me.

I walked back to the apartment.

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