She was a pretty girl who still showed her legs in late November, but covered the rest of her body with a jacket. Her body was slightly thick, but her legs were firm and she was proud of them. Her steps were deliberate and her body was hunched— eyes down catching glances of the cute shoes she would let tip the end of her legs. You could see her pride and you could see what she’d like to change. I wanted to change her. I wanted to kiss her body with passion until it straightened her back and lifted her chin. My hands would glide up her legs, bringing confidence to every part of her body. I would make her realize she was beautiful. I would grab her soft body hard and watch my fingers sink into her flesh. Her perfect legs would tense around my body and become firmer.

She’ll never see me with her eyes on the floor. She’ll never catch my eyes on her body waiting for warmer weather to see her leave the jacket at home. If she did, that would mean someone else had started giving her confidence. She’d belong to someone else.

She’ll never be mine.

I have nothing clever to say or anything to offer. I realize something then, I realize that maybe someone is waiting for me to look away from the pretty girl with nice legs to them. Maybe there is someone waiting to give me the confidence I need. I look around and see no one. I go back to writing in my little red notebook.