He didn’t want to be beholden to me or anyone. Or at least, that is is the sense I make of the fact that he eschews any offer of help, even my innocent one of saying I would carry his coffee up the stairs. I could see him hesitating, looking at his bag and then his coffee. Can I help? I said standing up (I felt a reluctance at touching his bag – not sure why, oh let it not be repugnance), I could take your coffee. He didn’t even look at me, but promptly lifted his bag and taking his cup in his other hand raced up the stairs. Do you think he sees us as the enemy? I asked him. I hope not, he said.
