Glance Over the Shoulder

Telling me to keep this position while twisting to look at you is pushing your luck, but fine—you get pure malicious compliance. I kept my knees planted into the miniature mattress and my palms pressed down, holding my back arched up. My oversized knit top slid completely crooked down my ribs, exposing my bare shoulder to the draft. Then, instead of lifting my head gracefully, I slowly peeled my cheek off that tiny ruffled pillow and craned my neck sharply backward over my shoulder. I pushed my black glasses up with a twitch of my nose and fixed you with the most bored, unimpressed scowl I could muster. Take your picture before my neck cramps up.