We stopped at a red light, and without much enthusiasm observed the sidewalks. A woman, as she walked, fixed the white lacey gossamer slip of her dress. It dragged out of her skirt, obviously making her feel self-conscious. A short, stubby man with an overbearing gut was nonchalantly picking his nose as he ogle the lady adjusting her slip. He stared at her, as though undressing her with his eyes.

I looked at my father, who was looking right back at me. We both laughed. Being only five years old, I was at an age where I found everything hilarious. The very fact that my father and I were looking at the same scene and probably both thinking how perverted the man seemed made me laugh hysterically.

My dad continued to drive. I kept gazing at the scenery of the city, as the sun started to set and the darkness took over. Our little sightseeing trip was over, or so I thought.

I was so used to the same path we went through, that when my father made an unaccustomed turn, it made me suspicious. I refrained myself from

Some topics in this essay:
, father looking, seat watching,