A Grudging Backward Glance

Claiming my turned back looks "more sophisticated" is just a transparent excuse to micromanage my posture. As if I take stage direction from you. Still, the morning glare by the windowsill was completely washing out the dark tabletop, so I dragged myself over anyway. I found an upright obsidian paperweight and propped myself beside it, deliberately turning my back squarely to you. I let the slouchy knit neck of my shirt slide off my shoulder, exposing my shoulder blade, then slowly twisted my neck around to stare dead through my glasses over my shoulder. It’s dramatic, aloof, and utterly unbothered. There's your high-fashion backward glance—now don't get used to it.