The young lady sitting across from me seemed reluctant to make eye contact, something I had often encountered with individuals from her background. I commented on the minor transgression, and she quickly corrected herself. That was promising, promptness and a willing mind is the most any mentor can ask. I did not wish to pity her, nor for anyone else to pity her; pity is the sign of unequal footing, and therefore can never be true respect. Such small transgressions are telltale signs of a degenerate background, and thus incite pity.
I tapped my cigar on the table between us, one of the many small comforts, (which some may call vices), I possess and she does not, a quality I must be forced to admire. The conversation then turned to my singular table, another of my small comforts. "Some people find it distasteful one could say," I conceded. "It has always been a source of great comfort to me personally. I cannot imagine the room without it. At night