

I'm standing in front of the mirror, and I'm getting hot. It's not the heat, it's the look. Your Who knows. It's like you're here, behind me, even though I know the room is empty. My fingers touch the clasp, slowly, as if I'm playing a game of patience with myself. A click, and I remove my bra, like an extra shell that's no longer needed. I stare at my reflection, at the way my skin is slightly pink in the evening light, at the way my breasts jiggle slightly, as if waiting for someone's touch