I decided to walk home and chose to make my way along the railroad tracks, because I liked the vantage this gave me. I neared my apartment complex, which spread out as big as a small village. The white buildings all looked exactly the same.
A large voice barked, “You there!”
“I didn’t do nothin’,” I protested.
The man dressed too well to be from the neighborhood or the railroad. He looked old, but grown up old, not wrinkled like Sammy. His short hair and well-trimmed goatee both grew out dark black, with no signs of greying. He emitted an aroma of aftershave and his cold, blue eyes burned a sick feeling in my stomach.
“But you have“ the man chuckled. “Maybe without realizing.”
As the man took a step towards me, I bent down and grasped a rock nearly as big as my fist. The man laughed, but stopped.
“Smart. I like it,” the man said. “My name is Mr. King.”
I struggled to keep my legs from trembling inside my worn blue jeans.
“If you are going to throw the rock at me, then do it,” Mr. King demanded. “Otherwise, put it down!”