In our empty library, a man with a heavy beard chose to share the table I was working at, sitting right by my side. This annoyed me a little, but I scooted over to make room anyway. As I worked I became increasingly agitated: he hummed a song I didn’t know, tapped his pencil against my computer, scribbled noisily in his large binder. When he removed his shoes and socks to pick at dirt in the cuticles of his toes, I packed up my bag. As I huffed, my phone received a text. I glanced at it.
“You know, you should ask people before you do that,” the man said.
“I don’t want to be exposed to your damn radiation. Did you consider that? It’s rude.”
And again, I was reminded,
it’s all about perspective.