Walking home from an early morning jaunt, I noticed a parent with their child coming toward me. There is a family that I often greet as they accompany their son to school, and my mind instantly assumed that this was them. But only one parent, today, prompted me to fill in the reason. Surely the mom had a night shift and was sleeping in. Then, as we got closer, I realized that the child was wearing a dress. This did not fit with the story I had composed, and as they came into focus I realized that it was an entirely different family. I almost laughed, at the circuitous fable I had created without any more input from the actual persons involved than the bald fact that they were walking. 

How often do I do this? Paint elaborate scenarios about why someone was late, or who they voted for, or why they are driving quickly? I assume I know why they are angry, or how their body feels. I concoct motives as if I am omniscient, when in truth I often don't know the reasons behind my own choices.

Curiosity is a way to resist keeping others in a box. When I cling to a conclusion that originated between my ears rather than the events around me, I relinquish my humanity. 

And giving others the freedom to surprise me is more fun anyway.