A delicate matter

You said you would get her a gift.
Yes, I did, maybe I should. 
Yes, she deserves it.
Maybe, but out of respect I won’t get her one.
What’s respect got to do with it?
It’s her habit. Having little, nothing, leftovers on the plate and she won’t easily see things differently. 
You don’t have to get her one but why did you promise to?
It was a moment of stupidity. She wants it by right, with greed and hunger.
She’ll understand all this in time.
I’m telling you, I don’t want to start this game. I don’t like demands, greed and hunger. 
You’re exaggerating, how is she to blame?
She isn’t, but she will maul that thing as if it were the last. And I don’t like this. I don’t want to see her waiting with her mouth open, gulp it down and digest it and that’s that. 
But she’ll have to learn from someone, don’t you think?
Not from me, not this time. You know when you look at a stranger at the bus stop? They will continue to be a stranger for the whole journey, you will carry on not knowing anything about them while they go down the step and the doors close. Indeed, they don’t even say goodbye, they go their way and you go yours. Some names come to mind, maybe from what they look like, but a few seconds later you don’t think about it anymore, you’ve arrived, you get off too, someone looking at you will think the same things and then nothing more, just the desire to get a coffee.