[ Thank goodness the man heard her, but now he's coming over wearing a glare that makes her feel like she's disturbed him and perhaps given him the wrong impression. Marianne seizes up again. She lowers her gaze, half-wringing her hands, half-gesturing vaguely at the ground. ]
It's, um. Your parcel. You dropped your parcel.
[ She chances a brief moment of eye contact. Is he still glaring? ]
no subject
It's, um. Your parcel. You dropped your parcel.
[ She chances a brief moment of eye contact. Is he still glaring? ]