Guy comes out of Tesco. Lights up a cigarette. Balances the phone between his ear and shoulder. Opens the box of mini brownies, and happily chomps on them between drags on the cigarette, and phone conversation.

I’m judging him. And hating myself for judging him.

He’s exploding at the waist. I hate myself.

The cigarette is over, as is the call. So he opens a can of coke (regular) to help with the brownies. I HATE MYSELF.

Judging is easy. It’s almost addictive. Changing people is hard. Almost never starts with judging. I need to let it go. I need to try harder.

(As does he)