“Hey.” With laser acuity, the close-leaning man leers over the sticky table and into my v-neck. “Nice tits.”

Even though he is probably dropping dandruff and unpleasantness onto my paper napkin, I smile.

“Thank you,” I say, and then, because it is polite, I reach into my shirt, detach one of my breasts whole from my body, and offer it to him. “Would you like one?”