I feel when he enters the building. I get out of my chair, stand in the doorway of my office in the English department. He comes around the corner. I put my hands on my hips, like a kid, and call down the hallway, “Hey, you!”
He sails toward me, empty-handed, grinning, late fifties, one of those men who look sandpapered and better for it. When he gets to my office, he stops and leans in close, hands spread on the door frame.
My hip cocks out. My head tilts back. My body moves on its own, wriggling.
