Out of the blue, a small dog, sitting on the lap of its heavily made-up owner, barks at B. Of all the people rushing by in the street, it decides that there is something wrong with B, and only B. Seemingly calm, B keeps on walking. Dogs are known to have acute senses, he says to himself. "What was it? The rucksack? Something out of the ordinary in my appearance or smell...or thoughts? Something noone but a dog can sense? Maybe I exude a sinister aura? Or could it be that whatever irritated the ugly beast is indeed visible to everyone, nevertheless is something one tends to keep silent about." In any case, a seed of self-doubt has been planted. Pre-bark, B had one worry less. Post-bark, he's thrown off-balance. One could even argue that he's a different man now. B keeps on walking, but somewhat more insecure, wondering what that stupid dog noticed in him. Although another possibility, he considers, is that he's yet again being too thin-skinned; a burden he knows to have carried his whole life.