I avoided the park for the rest of the week, trying to sort out my thoughts. The man had stirred things in me that I hadn’t even known were there. The daily grind for survival usually meant my mental energies were tied up with earning a paycheck. This was new territory for me, and I was at a loss as to how to deal with it—and him.
The next Monday, he cornered me outside Shoe Haven as I finished securing the roll up door. Great.
“Terry, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to freak you out like that. I’m just concerned, is all.” I really wasn’t ready to have this conversation. I looked at him, willing myself to speak, but the words wouldn’t come.
I adjusted my backpack and headed to the bus stop two blocks down from the store, Ishmael hot on my heels. He was persistent, I’d give him that much.
