His crystal blue eyes lingered too long on me.
I felt my layers of clothes being peeled back by his unflinching gaze.
My heart pounded and I glanced at him behind the counter.
Not tending to the work that needs to be finished, but looking incessantly towards me.
Clammed up, but strangely sympathetic I allowed his unbroken stare to remain transfixed.
He was old, and ***** minded as he winked and puckered his lips at me when I glanced his way once again.
I looked again into his eyes and wondered what pain has he known?
What have the years twisted him into?
From the time he was a young boy, with a ruddy face and full head of hair, playing with a toy gun he made from a stick.
Why was his heart so tainted, he thought he could make me into whatever his fantasies were making me into at that moment, and not feel bad?
Where did he lose his conscious?
I gathered my courage and looked at him once again, but with a glance not composed of fear and knitted together by disgust. No.
I looked at him, and my heart ceased pounding and smiled at him.
A wide, genuine, true smile.
And nodded my head as if to say “I understand.”
He looked back at me and his blue eyes had changed their story.
No longer leering. They were apologetic and yielding now.
And as I left the store I couldn’t help, but steal a glance one more time, he was still looking, not with lust, but with a sadness, simply nodded his head back to me as if to say
“Thank you for understanding.”