Prompt

Mom was in the living room, wearing an outfit that I'd never seen her in. Her clothes looked new, and they could have been. She could have bought them yesterday. It's not like we spent twenty-four hours a day together. She had gathered her long, flaxen hair into a bun, one of those where the hair swirls about itself with neither a beginning nor an ending. She had donned a gray cotton house shirt that hugged her body and molded to her breasts, emphasizing their softness and shape while detailing her small waist and long, graceful arms. While the shirt had caught my attention, it was her shorts that had made my heart shift into a higher gear yet again.