I was taking photos and he bumped me as he brushed past from behind.
He said sorry but I there was lots of room and I was on the edge of the kerb so I thought it might have been deliberately cheeky.
A little put out by the unnecessary interruption to the street scene I'd been framing, I snapped his back. My photo equivalent to sticking my tongue out, I suppose.
But he had warm arms where his skin brushed mine and a soft voice when he spoke, and whenever I look at this image, I remember that before I remember the intrusion, and his true impact lingers.