Sarah Ziemann

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come to a concept of importance and wants to make sure I’m engaged. Both her feet are now bare and perched on the chair. Her knees pressed against the table’s edge, and she has the book laying across her thighs. With every turn of the page, her head tips from left to right, and every five minutes or so, she blindly dips her chin to pull the straw between her lips from the glass she has tucked to her chest. Only when a loud slurping sound is made does she lose focus. Her eyes fly up to mine, embarrassed, and right back down to the now empty glass. A low chuckle leaves me, and I sit back in my ...more
Dirty Curve
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