I spy something in the library...

The man next to me is trying to pick his nose. I say trying because he attempting to do it without actually "pointing to his brain"---thats what I called it as a child. Ya know, not really putting his fingers up there, but he is putting his thumb in front of one nostril and index finger in front of the other. I don't actually care. I would rather him do this instead of actually pointing to the brain. He is short with this dark hair. He is wearing blue jeans and a deep red button-up shirt. He is in his mid-thirties I would guess. I noticed when he walked over.
Oh, good grief! He must have noticed me noticing because now he is mumbling to himself. Not mean mumbling, but the kind people do when they are trying to act like they are really concentrating or want to seem important. He can't read what I am writing. There is a square shape being made out of 4 desk and we all face the center. He is to the right of me and there is a young black girl to the left.
I am at the university library doing some research on Richard Branson. Well, I was doing research as you can tell it wasn't going good, because now I am blogging.
Okay, his mumbling is actually not mumbling. I can hear what he is saying. He has big eyes....the big-because-I-have-them-wide-open kind. I imagine he stresses himself out. He is looking all around now.
This guy has to be single.