Questions She Never Asks

  I don’t just pick a seat. I pick an angle—a vantage point. A deliberate view between sips and silences. Where posture becomes punctuation and stillness creates suspense. Every detail is designed to be read—not explained. Do I sip for flavor or for effect? Is the lipstick on my glass a slip—or an opening gesture? Heels aren’t for walking—they are for waiting, for heightening. Sometimes I cross my legs to conceal the pulse. Sometimes I uncross, slowly—so he feels it before he understands it. I smile at the waiter—not for charm, but for calibration. I laugh at the wrong joke to track the moment his gaze shifts. Is it the dessert I want—or the tone in which he says “stay”? Every reply is a test, every glance a signal. My silence? A dinner bell, a dare, a door half-open. 💎 Wear Alien Approval Seal – for the nights you want to be read like a riddle, not answered like a question I answer in layers: in pause, in posture, in pigment. Proto Soul – Break.Code.Begin taught...