A silent presence that disturbs
Then I noticed her. Élodie, sitting one row behind me. She wasn’t making any noise. She didn’t complain. She didn’t ask for anything. She simply adapted to the obvious discomfort: the narrow seats, the slight jolts, the cramped space. Every movement she made seemed measured, as if to avoid disturbing anyone.
And it was precisely this silence that unsettled me. Without looking at me, without speaking, she reflected back an unflattering image of myself. While I was getting irritated over minor details, she was enduring far more without a sigh.
