I trace the lines on his foot. Up. Down. Around his toe. And back up. My head bent close to him so I can see my finger make contact with his foot. My body contorted under the table between his legs. He’s typing away on his laptop with a single-minded focus. The clicking sounds become background noise while I think of ways I can get him to spare a thought for me. Just a single sharp breath or wriggle of his feet is all the...