An Italian café/restaurant opened in my neighborhood.
I tried their breakfast.
While I was reading the newspaper and sipping my espresso macchiato a woman dropped her cappuccino.
The lower part of my white trousers was covered in stains.
“Did it touch you?” the woman asked.
“No,” I answered politely.
I went home. While I was changing my trousers I imagined that I had to sit in an office wearing trousers that were covered in coffee stains.
But then I realized that it was nothing but insecurity and vanity, as if other people care about the stains on my trousers. As if being attractive, or being good for that matter, is just a matter of wearing a spotless pair of pants.
Nevertheless, just to be safe I continued changing my pants.