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)

Shame stares

I’ve just parked in my usual parking spot on the far side of Tesco.
Guy drives in, doing 30mph in the 5 mph zone, straight into the parent and child parking spots next to the door.
In a sports car. No child, or space for a child evident in the car.
While there are loads of non-marked parking spaces all around, including just opposite where he parked.

I walk past his car with my best despicable stare.
He gets out of the car – a seemingly respectable man in his 50s – just as I enter the cafe.

Sadly, for him, he too is coming to the cafe. He orders a tea to take away. I’m still giving him a nasty look.

They accidently make his tea to drink-in. I’m still giving him a bad vibe.

He takes one sip of the tea, drops his head, quietly exits and drives off.

For once, I was on the other side. And I don’t know how to feel about it – I should feel good, but I feel bad.