I was on a bus in Chicago, on a bench seat that was positioned ‘sideways’ (as opposed to the usual ‘frontways’). Mrs. Mustard was on my right and my right arm was on the seat back behind her.
So as we’re traveling, at one point I feel my fingers brush up against something fuzzy, obviously some stuffing that was popping out of a tear in the seat back cushion. I absentmindedly brush it aside, but then feel it again; I start to play with it, still not really paying attention to anything at all. I’m flicking this seat stuffing with my finger, then I start twirling it around my finger. After a minute or so of this, I don’t feel it anymore. I glance over and realize, to my horror, that I had been playing with the hair atop some little old lady’s head. As I peered over, our eyes met for a millisecond as she was leaning away with a very concerned look on her face.
She got off at the next stop; I watched her walk in the pouring rain to a McDonalds and just sort of stand there as if wondering when the next bus was due to arrive.