"Guh, you're such an annoying person!" He didn't slam the book down, but might as well have done.
She levelled her eyes at him, but held her peace.
"Oh right, what now?"
She felt like such a cliche, "Nothing." She let it hang in the air.
"It is never 'nothing'." He was careful to enunciate each syllable.
"It's just that.. well.. Annoying people don't exist."
"What?"
"They don't - annoyingly.. It's a projection on the part of the person who's annoyed. They project on to another person their own failure to deal with the situation in hand."
He stared at her. It was bad enough when she was straight with him, but these moments were always almost impossible. Sensing the need for explanation, she thought for a moment.
"There's a la.." She stopped herself. "Let's keep this gender neutral to stop any unhelpful ideas - a person is travelling on a train."
Calmly and gently the scene was set.
"They're sitting at a table, on the seat next to the window, normal carriage, you know the set up. No one else is at the table. They're reading a book."
"Where are they going?"
"Unneeded detail. But let's say it's the Transpennine express, towards Manchester - just so there's some lovely countryside. They look out of the window as they come to turn the page of their book. Unconsciously, they lick their finger (index, right hand, if you must know) before sliding the paper over. It was something they picked up from their Grandmother. When they were little, Grandma would sometimes read them bedtime stories, and she would lick her finger before turning the page. It was just something that was noticed, and consciously assimilated at a young age; but now in their mid-thirties, they had no idea they did it."
She paused, letting the peaceful picture settle in his mind.
"After a couple more pages, accompanied by the requisite finger licks, the train pulls in to a station. Let's say it was Hathersage. Several people get on, two of them join our bookreader. They look up at the new arrivals. Hmmm.. This gender neutral thing is going to be a pain."
She sipped from the cup in her hand, mentally assessing the new characters.
"One sat next to our friend, the other directly opposite. The one opposite seemed tense. From their bag placed on the otherwise empty seat they get out a laptop and some papers. Maybe they have a meeting, or it could be some deadline; but there are clearly things on their mind. The other new person watches them for a moment, smiles to themselves, and gets out a notebook and pen. They are going to meet their friend's new baby, but also going to take the opportunity for a little shopping, and a list is in order.
"Our book reader reaches the end of another spread, licks their finger, and turns the page. A few minutes pass, may be as many as ten. Everyone is settled into their thoughts. Another page is turned. Our listwriter notices the finger licking, and gently smiles. Their father would do the same, in a rather absent-minded fashion. They thought about their father, and wrote another entry on their list.
"The person opposite had noticed the digit-moistening as well."
She turned her gaze from the middle distance back to his face. Meeting his eyes, it was clear that he was listening and appreciated the new description.
"A few minutes later they notice it again. Then again.
'Why are they doing that?' questions our stressed person. Err.. Stressee? It was behaviour that, now they'd seen it, they couldn't ignore it. But they have work to do - that deadline isn't going away. Papers flutter, keys are clacked. Then the index finger is licked again.
"Now it's starting to get unbearable. The thoughts mount up. 'Don't they know the hygiene issues with doing that? What a ridiculous thing to do. Don't they realise how stupid they look licking their finger? Why don't they just lick the page and cut out the unnecessary movement?'
She took another sip.
"The stressee (nah, that doesn't work, does it?).. worker tries to concentrate on the job before them. As our reader reaches the end of another page, the right hand makes its journey upward. The movement is caught in the peripheral vision of our worker. They can barely contain themselves, but know they must. 'That person is so annoying!' reverberates around their mind."
She measured her words as they came out.
He could see it was coming, but let it pass without comment.
She left the scenario in stasis.
"Was our worker right? Is the reader an annoying person?"
The clock in the hall chimed the hour.
"On their own, the reader was unaware of their age-old habit. They were content in themselves.
"Our list-writer saw the habit, was at peace with themselves and the situation, and got on with their own life without any further fuss.
"However, the worker was stressed. Whether it was a meeting or deadline at the end of the journey, they were in no mood for the foibles of others.
"I'm sure I don't need to labour this any further, do I?"
He was looking down at the table. There was nuance to be argued, he felt. Some people set out to annoy others, their success would surely make them annoying - doubtless she had an answer for that. But the central thrust of her narrative did demonstrate her point.
"No. No, it's fine."
She finished the remnants in her cup.
"Are you getting the kettle on, then?"
"Yes, ok. And - sorry."
"Not a problem."
"But.."
She didn't quite purse her lips. "What?"
"Next time, couldn't you just hold the fart?"
