to run away.
In trying to remain inscrutable, you make it so your own gaze is as plain, you look twice at every surface, a sidelong view to hint at shame, wanting, a desire requited.
Words to cajole the man only bear their weight on those who speak them. He thinks himself a vagabond, as hapless of self as his own conceit would allow.
To want to disappear, he thinks rightfully by rare sunlight and rolling scenery, is its own vanity.
Through a train window, the man considers: today's meal, his mother's maiden name, the sophistry of people he's wronged.
Choosing to remain miserable.