I am standing on a fairly crowded metro train, observing the last available seat, but really using my peripheral vision to check out the man sitting on that joining seat. He seems pretty normal, on the hefty side, but his ass is not spilling over onto the other cushion, much. Hardly noticeable. I am sure he is friendly, though he appears to be indian (dot type). Certainly not a terrorist looking person.
I wonder if he realizes that he is the only sitter on this train with out a warm body next to him (though one old lady looks like she could die any second, but the body will remain lukewarm; for a while anyway). He has a sad little expression on his face. It almost makes me want to sit next to him. Not chat him up of course, but just so we can uncomfortably rub legs, letting him know that he is not a freak. That society has not completely rejected him and left him out to dry.
Or he could have a family, kids, and be the happiest man on earth, only now he is a little pissed because some lady just sat next to him and now he is jammed up against the side like every other window seater. He is no longer special or noticeable. And he is pissed that his leg room has been lessened.
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