Streetwalker

 Streetwalker

She hadn’t been there before. The bright hot wave of the infrared lights basked upon her skin for the absolute for time. Her toes were cold; her hair sticky from sweat mixed with hairspray and whatever else that had been floating in the air. She stood languidly against the slice of brick wall between two bulletproof floor-to-ceiling windows, waiting for some kind of momentum to push behind her knees so she would walk. 
The glass door eased off its hinges as it sprung open, popping back to place like a lost vertebrate as an identical pair of young males dragged each other out, leggings and sneakers woven together as though they were biologically joined by the hips. Clea watched them in slight illusion as she drew her fingers to her lips, sucking in at the cigarette she imagined to be there. The gray puff of breath imploding into the cold air did the trick, spiraling up in distorted ringlets. The black-legging beauties from indoors were at the second slice of brick wall, but only halfway. The one with his back to her had his left leg out against the glass of the window, almost drawn over the skinny hip of the one topping him as his whimpers rose out into the air in thin, vibrating clouds. 
Clea breathed in and tilted her head, her eyes following a loose piece of thread as it dangled in the infrared spotlights, red and then white, red again as it rested down on his black legging. Roles had changed against the wall; their bodies more against glass than brick as she opened the door and walked inside.
She glanced at the man by the counter.
Then at the window.
A small, white hand was pressed to the glass, fingers curling slowly as though trying to grip the bulletproof surface.
———————
For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Tara Roberts challenged me with ”Somewhere over the rainbow” and I challenged SAMwith ”Take the book nearest to you, flip to page 45 and use the first full sentence as your prompt/inspiration for your text”. 

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