Nibbles

I've asked around - no-one wants to go and see Harry Potter and the prisoner of Azkaban with me. I'm the perfect cinematic experience companion; I don't talk, even during the trailers. I'm the very embodiment of manners. I ony snort and snigger -rather quietly- during the ads for mobile phone companies/sugary soft drinks. I don't smuggle in sweets with wrappers that will rustle; I don't mechanically plunge my hand into a giant popcorn popcorn. I don't slurp. All I do is stare, sometimes with my mouth slightly open. That is all. Still, it looks like I'll experience HP III on my lonesome.

The first time I ever went to a cinema on my own was in Paris; I was 16. I'd disagreed with my (male) friend who wanted to see Terminator when I wanted to see Dangerous Liaisons. We went our separate ways. It was a stifling afternoon in August; I paid, went in, sat near the back. I wasn't so short-sighted then. The film started.
There were two of us in the cinema; and where would the creepy guy sit but right next to me?
I moved two seats to the right; he moved two seats to the right. I wasn't so easily indignant then; yelling at him, or getting the manager didn't even enter my mind. I was still in that childhood frame of mind that if something unpleasant happens to you, it feels like it's your fault.
For a good five minutes I tried to ignore his obvious frantic fidgeting on my left.
Then he stood up, walked to the loo door, opened it and lingered there, beckoning. In vain. I just stared at the screen as hard as I could, cheeks aflame with shame.

What the hell did he expect?
He gave up and left.

When I walked out into the afternoon's heat, I thought : it was a good film.
My friend was waiting for me outside. I didn't mention the incident to him.