would you peek over the fence if you lived nextdoor?

Your neighbor never mentioned she spent Sunday afternoons like this — stretched across the sun-warmed deck, bikini bottoms pulled just low enough to make your grip tighten on the fence post.

She shifts, and that generous curve catches the afternoon light in a way that makes you forget you were supposed to be mowing the lawn. Her skin glows, unhurried, completely unbothered by whoever might be watching.

And she knows you're watching. The slow roll of her hips as she resettles proves it. The fence suddenly feels very thin between you and everything you've been pretending not to notice all summer.