I moved along the window-wall

I moved along the window-wall. I liked my reflection in the nighttime glass, the
way my body was almost translucent, its outline and features only hinted at, and
the way the city lights and the black-green hole of the Park were contained within,
and spilling out of, me. The reflection of my white underwear neared opacity,
realness, and my gold chain glimmered.

I did not look at him. I looked at me in the window: half disappeared, slim, and
young. If you don’t pretend at vanity, the men feel dissatisfied. Look at my
smooth skin, look at my face! And then something else, conviction, took over;
I am a very good pretender. So, more than anything, I want to say this: in that
moment I was happy.

-- Justin Torres