I was walking home from
I was walking home from the diner a couple days ago, when I passed a happy little family scene at the foot of Bloomfield Street.
"Momm-eee," said the tot in the stroller.
The kid's mother stood a few feet away, cigarette in hand, back turned to the plaintive tyke. She was a petite woman with long brown hair. As I walked past she turned to look at me. She looked tired.
"The fuck you staring at?" I glanced up as some tattooed musclebound dude came bounding over towards me. There was a chain link fence between him and me, thank god, and he stood on the other side of the fence doing a little monkey dance. "What the fuck you staring at? Huh? What are you staring at?"
When I got home I told my roommate Stephen what had just happened. "And the thing is, I wasn't even really checking her out," I finished.
Stephen said, "That guy totally knew who you were."