That was a hot summer in Tokyo…

I remember it was a hot evening in Tokyo. I was sitting in the middle part of the seat on the train, looking at my smartphone on the way from Shibuya to Tokyo station. My thighs were revealed brightly under the miniskirt that I was wearing. As soon as the seat on my left was empty, a man who was standing in front of me quickly took it. I did not look at his face at all but I could see his shoes. After a while, I started to feel strange as the man kept taking out his phone and putting it back into his right pocket. And each time the skin of his hand slightly touched the skin of my left thigh. I felt neither panic nor fear. In my mind, I was wondering,
“So this is sexual harassment?

What’s his next move, at this time, at this place?

He must be very disappointed he only touched my safety pant.”
Now when I recall this I really want to ask him,
“How did you feel at that moment?

How many times have you done this?

How do you expect me to react?”
I stood up and walked away when I reached my stop. I did not look at him at all. Not because I was scared, just because I would be disappointed if I found out he was a bad looking guy. I have my own fantasy too. And rather than focusing on the act of “sexual harassment”, I am more interested in finding out the factor that lies behind this action. Next time I would like to interview the person who harassed me so that I can understand more about this mysterious yet nasty behavior.

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