Monday, February 13, 2017

Expectation of Privacy

He's scrolling through his phone while I stand above. The train is packed in tight, so everybody's all up in each other's business.

I'm not sure if he's on Instagram or Tumblr or something, but every few pictures at first, and then every other picture on his phone, is of a scantily-clad women, her hair demurely hanging over her breasts, or a well placed heart-shaped pastie over one nipple.

He keeps flipping through the photos until, out of the corner of his eye, he notices me watching him and his feed of naked ladies with great interest, but when he looks up, I've looked elsewhere, and he turns off his phone and hastily shoves it in his jacket pocket, turning red in the face as he does so.
One year ago today: Prescient
Three years ago today: Time Travel
Four years ago today: Revolving Door
Nine years ago today: 2-13-08 February in a Nutshell

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