To The Old Man Sitting In Front Of Me

Dear Sir,

You may wonder why I am smirking right now, covered beneath my laptop, surrounded by notes and Ellen Stewart books, while you sit in swishy wind pants methodically crinkling and dissecting the news paper in your hands.

Chances are, I am in your quiet, well lit, cozy, reading nook.

But as you sit and read, and I stare forward awkwardly, out of the window to the street, I imagine getting up to go the bathroom.

You, this little wrinkly male of most likely some substantial academic credit, will get up with stealth, place this very computer on your lap, and cackle in a library appropriate cackle, just for old men in wind pants.

But now you have gone, and I can go to the bathroom without fear.

Hope to see you again sometime,

The girl typing with a smirk in the green chair of the library.