330pm: girl in striped shirt, overly used, apple juice bottle in hand

I'm sitting in barnes and noble right now. I am thoroughly disgusted and sad. I was minding my own business, almost fully occupied with being mildly irritated with my physical appearance. (Today is a day where my eyes look exceptionally bloodshot, and the bags under them are more than noticeable. I am bloated. Coffee is not giving me the sustenance I need. I just want to go back to bed and start over already.) But this occurrence has jolted me out of my own concerns. I am actually physically and emotionally effected by this moment. I was in the bathroom, attempting to take care of my face when out of frustration I decided that sadly, I had done all I could do. I left the bathroom and as I was passing by the community room I walked right past this girl, who was more than a bit overweight, of stocky build, who looked to have just thrown up all over herself, the armchair she was sitting on, and the floor. Our eyes connected and my heart broke. She looked utterly mortified. She looked like she needed me in some way. In that moment, I felt like I was her. I just wanted to trade places so I could take care of it. She was frozen, suspended in the horror of what her body had done. I did not know what to do for her. Should I ask if she needed help? If I could provide my services in any way? Or should I not call attention to it-she was already clearly embarrassed enough-I did not need to add salt to her wounds. I ended up rushing back to my seat, feeling like I had stolen an intimate moment that was not mine to have. The feeling was much the same as walking upon a couple in the middle of a tender embrace, or turning a corner to discover lip-locked individuals. Even though it isn't really my fault that I have walked in on these semi private moments, I instantly feel ashamed. Like, maybe, I should have known in some way that this would be a bad place to go, or that I should have been aware of my intruder status to some degree. Anyway, going back to vomit girl, I watched the saga unfold from my post, about 500 yds away. She tried to clean up the mess with a small, unfortunate, little napkin. It was clearly not enough to repair the damage. I watched as the people ambled by her, all turning back to gawk at her peculiar situation. (Much like I had earlier.) I knew that it was probably super impolite to be staring for this long, but I just couldn't stop. I felt so incredibly horrible for her. I wanted to shield or protect her in some way from everyone's gaze. I wanted to make it better somehow. At one point, I even felt like puking myself. In the end, the mess was cleaned up and she was ushered out of the store. I did nothing to help.