I had a hard time writing this story out, because the best part of the story is a motion, but I’ve done my best to describe it.
Mother and I went to the Art Institute of Chicago, and had lunch in the café. We took our food outside, and sat next to their fountain. Nobody was within a table of us, but there were about 30 tables, and around half of them full. After lunch, I made a phone call to my aunt to get directions to her house. I could hardly hear her over the splashing of 8 jets of water shooting from the orifices of the sculpted figures. Add to that bad reception and the conversations of others, and I was struggling to get the directions. I had a sheet of paper on my purse balanced on my lap, my phone between my ear and shoulder, one hand was holding the pen, and my other hand was plugging my other ear. I was looking down as I was writing, and trying to verify as I wrote.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some movement, and looked up.