Mark held open the front door of our building for me. I was already heading to the stairs when I turned around to hear him say calmly, "I don't think you belong here." The kid, already inside, did a complete turn and walked out. Mark and I looked at each other, blinking, quiet, before Mark bolted the front door. Awareness clicks, and even if he wasn't going to rob us, he was probably going to rob someone, or at least try to. It turned out that Mark had already seen him, a ratty white kid in peacoat, skull cap, and huge sunglasses, walking toward us down 16th. Sunglasses in the dark? At some point, he must have turned and followed us; we probably had the look of people on their way home, unguarded. In any case, trouble averted: a little sense of menace like a struck match. But I'm still puzzled: I hadn't seen nor heard any of it coming. This kid was quiet.
Anyway, two pictures of our weekend in the Hamptons, which was happy despite the cold, sloppy wet. Mark reading at the wonderful Canio's Books in Sag Harbor. And our motel, the East Hampton House, at night.
1 comment:
Sag Harbor ~ makes me think of Blueberries for Sal.
I tend to be unaware myself. This must have been a scary moment. I think this is proof positive that Mark belongs in New York.
Post a Comment