Theme: Gender Swap
Can gender exist without sexuality?
Would creativity, inspiration, and motivation exist without reproductive competition?
Write from the perspective of a girl looking at a boy. How she looks at the boy and how she thinks about him. It's not about the other person. Our character should be judging him/herself. Start with, "She sees a boy..."
She sees a boy and reacts without thinking. She had been relaxed and focussed on the book she was casually reading, but now her actions feel fake. She can't focus on the words and her eyes are pulled repeatedly away from the paper to glance not quite at the boy who is gesturing at something behind the counter. Without consciously doing it, her glances lengthen. She's read a whole paragraph since he came into the small coffee shop, but she hasn't understood a word.
"Shit." She thinks to herself. "Why does this happen all the time? I wasn't like this with the last four customers that came in. I hate this." This is the first thought her conscious mind has had since she saw the boy.
Now she's frantic on the inside, and her ego begins to judge her.
"Stop thinking about him."
"Why didn't you shower before you left the house?"
All of a sudden her personality is split and her mind is at odds with itself. Part of her has already fallen in love. Part of her is nervous and wants to leave. Part of her is sad that's she's not going to hit on him. And, part of her has already absolved her of that desire.
This is a nightmare. She puts the book down and thinks about going to the bathroom, but finds that nerves have distracted her mind just enough for her body to act on it's own. She's checking her text messages and leaning back so she can get a clearer view of the boy still chatting with a server. Her ego chastises her for such a childish and obvious maneuver.
Write this character's point of view from the opposite sex. Get into physicality. How they move, think, talk. Add dialog. Use one characteristic chosen by each group member: dimples, sexy, striking smile, shy, jet black hair, pale skin, body dysmorphia
"Damn you look good, today," she said while admiring her body in different positions in the mirror. "Over the shoulder." The inflection in her voice rose with her body as she went up on one toe and looked back at herself. "Oooohhh ... such a striking smile. You go girl." She paused ... then chuckled softly. Lightly.
"I know it's morning, babe, but I just can't help myself." There was no one else in the apartment to hear her comment. A taxi cab honked twice. She glanced at the window and struck a pose, projecting gratitude and approval to the driver six stories below.
Alecia, dressed quickly and slipped out the door, purposefully whisking her black woven hat through the door just before it closed ... "for dramatic effect," she said out loud before chuckling again.
She followed the illuminated arrows like a game, almost skipping, until she got to the heavy fire door that lead to the stairs. The elevator was no place for a lady. She felt too contained in there ... too close to others ... not herself.
Alecia spun around completely on the landing, placing her jet black hat over her jet black hair in one fluid motion as the door slowly closed and then slammed shut as the gas spring gave way to the sharp angle of the door assist.
She skipped, almost weightless, as she moved fluidly down the stairs, effortlessly skipping every other step, except at each landing where the odd number of steps between floors disrupted her rhythm.