Holding a Door
Five middle-aged men dressed in nice suits walk out of the double glass doors of the business building at my university. I'm smiling as I walk toward them, obviously intending to enter the building they are now exiting. Not one stops to hold the door. Not. One.
I laugh with a bit of disappointment as the door shuts right as I get there. I pull the door open for myself - shifting my large stack of books to one hand - and only now does one of them look back for only a moment, a confused look on his face.