Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Sometimes, I am Seen as the Problem

She sees me coming, sees me see her, knows we'll pass each other. It's a quiet residential side street, a little after nine at night, lit fairly well, and I'm walking the dog. I'm also a pretty big guy, and it's just us.

She crosses over to the other side of the street in the middle of the block before she reaches me, and continues on her way.

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