I'm sitting at a table, listening to a woman cry about how alone she is. This affects an overweight young woman wearing a low lacy sweater with a blue skirt and white blouse. She starts crying. I say, "Ah, she's affected too." She gets up and walks all the way around the table to come and kneel next to me to hug me and cry into my lap. I call her Princess. I think, "Maybe she doesn't realize that when it's my turn, my stomach gets queazy and I have to go to the bathroom."