Suddenly losing a train of thought, mid-sentence, in front of expectant students.
An ambiguous public restroom lock, toilet facing the out-of-reach door.
Clapping or singing a beat after everyone else has stopped.
Public banana eating.
Being a panicky flyer, trying to listen with empathy while a seat mate describes her son’s death in a plane crash.
Telling a Xanaxed stranger the story of losing your son: such a good man, so fearless. The propeller sliced right through the plane.
An elevator ride with a close talker.
New beginnings of any kind. Thankfully: all looming question marks have the potential of interrobangs.