Blink

Hair up, she thinks. Hair up, because he likes it like that. She likes it like that too. With it up, the lines of her jaw appear. It makes her more defined. Shows off her cheeks, makes her smile more open.

And so up it goes. Yes, she likes this. She smiles at her reflection in the mirror. She practices that smile, and then she pouts, and she practices blowing him kisses over the table – over the menu and the plates – right onto his lips. Practices blowing kisses to him across the room, so they’ll hit him when he goes to the toilet or outside to smoke or to call his wife.

She pulls her robe together, covers her breasts.

And she blinks.

There’s a sigh inside her somewhere, but she doesn’t let it out because she likes that he likes her hair up, likes that he likes her lines.


* Nik Perring is a writer and workshop leader. He’s published poems, short stories and a children’s book. He blogs here http://nikperring.blogspot.com