While on the train I realized after the fact that I must have been bumped, causing splashes of my coffee to speckle the fabric covering the upper arm of a woman.
I searched my pockets for a napkin, that I may offer to help mop it up. I couldn't find one.
I was the only one around her that was clutching a cup. It was me. I knew.
I didn't say anything.
At the next stop, the crowded train caused the departing to brush past her. When I looked next her coat was scrubbed dry. I felt like I was now off the hook.
This may or may not be a revelation of my character.
scribblings, jottings, scenes & stories of Jeff Phillips, writer/performer/producer.
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