Lucy
I'm hallucinating. It's the only explanation.
New York fades away, all the smells and sounds of the city. All that's left is me and the six-foot inflatable doll in the storefront window. Perfect plastic t**s and red lips puckered in an O of perpetual surprise.
She gazes at me from her perch, right where the bakery used to be. Right below my apartment where the smells of warm bread and buttery pastries wafted through my bedroom window every morning.
My mouth drops open, matching her O.
My inflatable neighbor presses her palms to the glass, bright red panties smooshed against a neat stack of c**k rings and furry handcuffs. The flamboyant pink wig sits lopsided on her head with a curled fringe dropping seductively over her eye.
"Is that a s*x shop under my apartment?" The words who
