"Desire for Peeping" (a made-up story, very short)

It was an afternoon with comfortable warmth, which was a dynamic element reinforcing Alan’s good mood. He spent his rare spare time in driving at ease. Rolling down the window, he felt the pressure effected on the face by the breeze flowing into his car. But rather, it was more proper to depict it as a joyous perception, not ‘pressure,’ which he always had in his office.
Usually, he was deemed an engineering designer who had superb competence and got accustomed to doing anything at ease. What was most significant for his image in colleagues’ minds was that he contained an air of a scholar mastering philosophy even though that was neither his major nor his minor. It was because that he had been reading a multitude of books concerning philosophy for many years since he entered college. Yet one of those points of view was wrong. The minute Alan was at work, he was doing anything tensely. The seeming fact was sometimes opposite to the hidden truth. Probably, pursuit for perfection of his performance brought about his strained attitude toward work.
Presently, he stopped before an intersection. The location of this intersection fell on his way both to work and home. He had a clear idea that he had to wait long before he might pass it. During the waiting period, he felt so strange that he could not have anything to ponder. Whenever he came to this crossroads, there were always masses of work matter stirring in his mind. He was a bit of a workaholic. However, this afternoon was the starting point of his ten-day break. He was granted a sabbatical journey because of excellent performances. The company was indebted to his contribution. Therefore, the company decided that he was worth a reward. Alan took it for granted that everything thus happened because sometimes the world was , to some extent, a mutually beneficial system with two counterparts. This concept carried a humor of engineering formulae, in a vein of stiffness and cruelty.
At the present moment, his brain went blank, seeming to accept a strong presence of something. Alan readily hit upon it that he might get used to contemplating on matters so he was apt to wait for things to be considered when he had none. Nonetheless, his attention was caught at once by someone’s footsteps. They were then at a volume high enough to catch attention of all the drivers before the intersection, especially on such a tranquil afternoon. Sitting in a car, Alan turned slightly, or rather subtly, around to find out where the sounds came from. It was a lady. She even had a wonderful figure. From head to toes did she wear a fashionable dress with matching accessories. She seemed rush to somewhere because she began to run. While she was running, Alan wondered at her. Maybe everyone, too, wondered at her, but Alan didn’t know and he didn’t even dare to make sure. Because she wore a mini-skirt, part of her white underpants thus showed up while she fast striding on the sidewalk. Alan’s heart beat heavily because rather of peeping than of titillation of sexual sensation. At this point, he battled to argue with the opposite sound in his mind—“That is not peeping! You are watching that lady before the public. You don’t even hold a telescope hiding yourself at a corner to watch a lady take a bath. Odds are that the lady means to show you that.” These sounds appeared rationalize his motivation of going on watching. However, he still felt guilty, somehow. Before long, the lights turned green. After the lady appeared, the waiting period was too short for Alan. He considered that it even paid to spend the whole time of his journey to watch the lady. “The wonderful moment died away so soon,” thought Alan.
After the special afternoon, Alan always wallowed in the state of savoring. Also, he was left puzzled in the mean time. He started again to exercise his mind at the *** question: “Whether the lady is a prostitute or not?” He got stuck again in his binary theory, such as good and evil, success or failure, etc. Afterwards, this haunting question on and off perplexed him. In spite of this annoying question, the subsequent scene always following the question would be conjured up in Alan’s memories, which was the white underpants. The hue of soft white color really relaxed his nerves. It was a bit of compensation. But for what? Nobody knew, neither did Alan himself.