After effects of a bad burrito

Asian man, horizontal striped t-shirt, it's a nice shirt but I think he needs to branch out, that's all he wears. He sits by the window, overlooking a faux moat with underwater lights, beyond that, a stone plaza butts up to an opaque glass and white concrete wall. He moves into the center of the rotunda when night falls. There the even, constant lighting doesn't blind him like the moat lights and the smooth electric hum melts over the incessant crickets outside.

He puts his hand over his ear, shifting his weight to one side, but not before glancing over at me...just to see. An attractive girl in black shirt and jeans picks up her bag and walks out. The asian man picks his nose. He glances over again. Too late.

---------

After I come back from a break I start sketching ideas for upcoming assignments. Another failed idea involving a flagellation whip and strips of photographs, a landscape of snails and projected images of waterdroplets enclosed in a black box, artificial lighting and rubber mats complete with pillows, you know, for your head. A dark dot followed by another just like it but smaller, surrounded by a white pool, he's looking at me again. I wonder if he knows.

I wonder if he knows that I saw him picking his nose. I remember it well, staring, waiting for a silent reply. Once? twice?, no, four times he tried to arrest the scabrous bugger. Each time, following plunge and release, a quick check for trophies, like an offshore fisherman looking for algae on the end of his line.