I stopped reading and made the mistake of listening. Once I left my world of words, my sense of smell picked up. The guy at the table next to me was eating soup.

I tried reading again but I could only get my eyes to see the words. I put the book down.

The talking man, who caused me to listen, had an accent which I couldn't identify; I guessed: something European. He was quietly speaking to an attractive woman who sat with perfect posture which made me a little self conscious as I slouched in my chair and wrote this very thing.

I watched her as she rose. Her womanly form was muted by her thinness. And that was too bad.