My arm aches

That’s not a winge, simply a statement that at this moment in time my right arm aches to buggery and back.

Ah, I’m glad you asked why.

Her, down there (stands up and points 2-1/2 islands down the office to short, bespectacled girl/woman/female with almost-shoulder-length hair), that’s why.

She hit me.

Repeatedly.

Five or six times, if I’m honest.

Because I was looking.

Can we just get one thing straight here, before we go any further?

I wasn’t touching.

My tongue wasn’t hanging out.

I wasn’t being conspicuous.

I wasn’t even looking – really – more kind of… scanning.

But she (and by ‘she’ I mean her sitting 2-1/2 islands down the office) watches my eyes when we go up to Costa for our fix of caffeine.

And because she watches my eyes she tracks where they are and where they’ve been and she guesses where they’re likely to go next based on her built-up mental database of clicks and pings.

And then she hits me.

I’m not doing anything wrong.

We weren’t engaged in conversation – therefore I didn’t break eye contact or anything like that.

We were just standing in the queue waiting to be served and I was just…

Looking.

Around me.

That’s all.

I mean, if my wife with standing beside me I’d be perving all over her!

But she wasn’t.

So I was just looking.

And now I have a sore arm.

Ouch.

B.