I won’t pretend it was anything more.
It was looks. Just looks.
Shallow? Sure.
But **** — sometimes that’s enough.

The top wrapped around her torso,
tight but not loud,
just the right length, showing just enough.
That sliver of skin — her stomach…
Anyone would’ve looked.

The pants sat low on her hips,
baggy but not drowning her,
falling in that perfect accidental way.
Effortless — like she didn’t care.
But it worked.
It all worked.

The shoes were simple,
but they tied it all together.
Unassuming. Intentional.
A chain peeked from her neck,
rings scattered across her fingers —
tiny choices that made it hers.

She walked past me,
eyes down, texting.

I couldn’t help but stare.
You would’ve too.

Then she looked up.
Caught me.

A quick smile.
Not flirtatious. Not shy.
Just... there.

And then she was gone.

I kept walking.
But it stuck.

Not her name.
Not her voice —
I didn’t even hear it.

Just the way everything fit.
Like she wasn’t trying to impress —
but ended up doing it anyway.

It wasn’t deep. It wasn’t love.
Just one of those stupid moments
that still linger.