My eyes stick on the broad shoulders bent over the sink, the flimsy white t-shirt clinging across the round bulgy bits that show he’s no lank.
His head arches down lost in the soap suds his hands are working. My mind sparks, memories that aren’t supposed to be there taking hold of my attention. My eyes eat it up and the familiarity sweeps up my emotions.
Déjà Vu. Continue reading