I am sitting inside a café with a large outdoor terrace. The two are separated by a continuous glass wall. The weather is balmy and the terrace is almost full. Sitting by the glass, I am all alone inside. As I watch people walking past the terrace, a man in his mid-twenties limps along and chooses a table next to mine, albeit on the other side of the glass. He is walking with the help of a crutch. Judging by his muscular looks and by the way he handles the crutch, he is suffering from a recent sport injury. Facing the glass as he lowers himself into a chair, he grimaces with pain. Which is how I know that he has not spotted me yet on the other side of the glass. Aware of the fact that I have witnessed agony most private, I look down to spare him from embarrassment when he eventually spots me behind the glass. To my surprise, he never does.