Ingrid was doing her best to make me sympathise with her post-hospitalisation decision to emulate normal people.
"I just want you to understand... I wasn't always like this, but now things have changed."
The eye contact was uncomfortable, so I dropped my gaze to my coffee cup. Her desperate desire to construct a life which would have societal approval left me cold, but I was too polite to demonstrate the extent of the disconnect. I felt like our friendship, tenuous as it was, would not survive if I was completely honest with her, so I held back.
She was giving me a long spiel about "doing the right thing" and other such tosh.
We were in practically the only habitable cafe in Kensington, and my instinct to maintain the regular human contact was only slightly stronger than my desire to get out of there.