Something is expected. The dog looks worried. The cat feigns indifference. The elephant-in-the-room is looking for a comfortable chair to sit down on. It's thirsty too. There's no water on the table.
The man looks at the woman. He is studying her figure. She does not approve. She tightens her face to convey this. He's accustomed to her disapproval. The elephant might sit down in his lap. He would find that interesting. He has nothing more to lose. The cat's inclined to rub against his leg, but not for it to mean whatever he might think it means.
The dog wags its tail at the woman. She pats her leg and leans towards the dog. The man turns his gaze away from her exposed cleavage. It's not about that. It's a complicated matter, more concerned with architecture than humidity. Structure as in formulation of the soul.
If their eyes should meet in curriosity, mutual unspecified undetermined narrative, something in them shudders and shifts — but not enough.
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