I was given a challenge by a friend and fellow writer, Kynzie Bair, to write for ten minutes straight without stopping or editing. Although this is an excellent exercise to help inspire creativity, I deviated slightly and instead wrote a mini-story in the ten minutes allotted.
Signals
She occupied her time examining the various wares as she waited patiently for her coffee. She wore tight, black, athletic shorts with a plain tank top, a common outfit for the many young women who visited the shop. Her straight, dark hair hung to her shoulders, drawing focus to her attractive face, but not taking too much away from her toned body. I think I would have gone unnoticed had it not been for a patrons annoying attempt to capture the attention of a departing employee, whom I knew he fancied. His noise in my ear was a blessing to my sight as her and I locked eyes briefly. It’s never polite to stare, I thought to myself and averted my gaze. Yet she made another attempt to connect with my eyes, and again she was met with success. What had been only a moment before stretched to a full second, but felt more like a nervous minute. By her third glance I had started to wonder if she was looking at me because she thought I was attractive. I dismissed the notion. Perhaps she thought of me as a creep, and was only curious to see if my eyes objectified her body, but her face wore no sign of disgust. Had her opinion of me been favorable it wouldn’t of mattered. I pretended not to notice her as I took a drink of tea I wasn’t thirsty for, and continued to type out story I wasn’t working on.
