I took a train ride earlier.
While sitting, I went to brush my hair with my hand, and wound up finger grabbing the lady’s weave who was sitting in the opposite facing seat behind me.
I turned around and said, “Sorry.”
and she said, “It’s ok.”
and it seemed that she knew what had happened, but had decided it wasn’t a big deal and that I was just a girl with uncoordinated hands.
That was a relief, because I thought my face would be punched, so I decided to turn around and continue avoiding eye contact with people casually until my stop.
But alas, I could not.
For a strand of her weave was resting upon my finger.
this was breathtaking and daunting.
After four shakes, I managed to get the hair off and decided to play Where’s my Water, because I knew my hands would be occupied and protected from further encounters like such.