As he picks up his empty cappuccino glass, which he has forgotten was empty. The way he retracts his lips, looks at the cup, sets it down, turns back to his computer. He looks around then, perhaps not interested in his screen anymore, perhaps wondering if anyone saw him. He doesn’t look my direction; I am safe in my seeing and feeling. Unsuspected: woman with curly girl tip-tip-typing in the corner.
Prompts and thoughts:
What did you feel today that was not yours to feel?
Is there anything that is not ours to feel?