One tugs and tugs at her tunic-length top to cover a perfect behind.
One wears a scowl, hunched shoulders and a cheerful turquoise bandana.
One wears a new outfit and sits up straight, talking to an older man who seems to be holding his breath when he looks at her.
One turns her back to the crowded street and casually yanks at her skirt, freeing her wedgie.
My ears and whiskers, how do the men of this city get anything done when every corner is full of these women? Tenderness swamps me before the bus has driven a block.