Hand off the knee, please.

The other morning I was happily napping away when a man in a white suit sat next to me. I thought at first I'd been dreaming, since the man in the white suit smelled of incense and liquor and I decided that only someone from a novel or a dream would smell that way. But no, I wasn't dreaming. I know I've mentioned several times that I don't like to be touched by strangers. He had the unsavory and all-too-common habit of sitting with his legs splayed wide open, spilling into my allotted space. He also fell asleep, which means that when the bus would make a left turn, he would slowly lean over toward me until he side was touching mine. I decided not to get overworked by it. Then our bus driver announced that we should change buses, and so I took the opportunity to hope that he would select another seat. But no again. He sat next to me again. Determined not to be overly perturbed, I read my book calmly until, in a seemingly random and relaxed gesture, he let his hand move to my knee. I moved my book to the side and made a deal out of looking with a deep frown at his hand, which he quickly moved. We rode in silence for the remainder of the trip.

I wonder to myself when I will finally snap and make a scene with one of these individuals. I will probably simply immortalize him as some super unsavory character in a white suit and smelling of incense and liquor.