O is for origami.

When I pulled the pack of delicate rice paper from my bag, thoughtfully chose a sheet, and set about quietly concentrating, from the corner of my eye I could see your puzzlement, feel your agitation. You interrupted my solace with impatient questions, dismissing each careful fold as trivial. But my pen was failing me, and in this time of overwhelming disquietude I sought comfort in paper of another sort. That there are things about me which you still don’t know unsettles you, though this, too, is something you do not realize.