Man in the train

In the fast service on the way back home form my parents’ place I found myself in a quiet compartment. The four-seat cubicle I had for myself. Without bad feelings I could place my bag on the seat next to me and stretched my legs under the opposite seat. On the other side of the aisle another cubicle occupied by a young woman. Black hair, short black coat and a faded jeans in black boots. I opened my book on the page where I stopped reading before entering the train.A few minutes later, a man in his late thirties entered the compartment and slowly walked to the cubicle where the young woman was sitting. He placed his plastic bag on the table by the window and sat down on the seat facing the girl. From that moment I stared in my book without reading a word as my suspicion was raised. People still walking through a train several minutes after the last stop are suspect, especially with plenty of seats available. I can’t think of one good reason to do so. Then, taking a seat directly opposite a young woman on her own when a seat on a more secure distance from her comfort zone only adds questions. For a while nothing happened. The man played with his telephone, but suddenly he showed the display to the girl.“Do you like this picture?” he said.She looked at it and seemed a little shocked as she said “It’s fine”, requesting not to be bothered anymore by intonation. “I took it myself,” said the man. He walked to another cubicle where another girl was talking to a girlfriend on the phone. He placed his phone in front of her and walked back to his seat. The girl neglected the man. After a few moments the man took back his phone. “Do you want to see a real one?” he said to the young woman with the black hair. No reaction. What’s on the picture? What could he be so proud of that is interesting for girls? I could only think of things disturbing my appetite.I wanted to get away from this man bothering people, not feeling like being bothered for no reason. But wouldn’t that be the easy way? Should I ask the man to stop bothering the young woman? Maybe he doesn’t realize his behavior isn’t appreciated. Does he have a problem of some kind? And I can’t leave the girl alone with this man, can I? Slowly the man started to take off his shoes. First the left one, then his right. When done, he proceeded with his old grey jogging pants. Oh my god, what is he doing? This was the borderline; the girl got up and took a seat on the other end of the compartment, dismissing me of my function as her security officer. Relief. Thank god, a dark green tights showed up underneath his jogging pants. I took my stuff and walked away, becoming one of those strange types who walk through empty trains with no apparent reason.