And the Lit-Up Windows Became Tetris Blocks

So I continued walking. I was wearing flip-flops and plowing through the darkness like a noisy lost little lamb. The rain made the benches wet, I didn't want to sit and get my pants wet. So I continued walking. A man was sitting, talking on his cell phone, his head hung low to keep the conversation private, concealed from the darkness. [That is to assume that another was on the phone too, possibly talking. Could that person be inside the cell phone, talking directly into his ear. Whispering sweet secrets from the internal speaker, gesturing with the circuits.] And he got up. And I was still walking. The conversation dim and unheard by passing ears. So he keeps his head low and turns his back. And in this instant I contemplate his motives. A long, expensive weekend. More expensive than I can imagine. And I walk by and think: what might happen, does the future exist.

And there in the darkness. Standing, bowing to whatever voice he hears. I: walking, thinking. Does he want my wallet. Can he kill me, him and his wet pants, stabbing, pummeling, fiercely punching and kicking.

But it didn't happen. He stood and I walked.

Then, a moment later, still in my flip-flops I see a rabbit. The rabbit sees me too. I stop and the rabbit stops. We look at each other. And then in the darkness I realize that if I were faster, quieter, stronger I could have the fuzzy one and he would be helpless. I'm not. But the rabbit doesn't realize it. I do. So I keep walking. And the rabbit remains, hopping back into the bushes and brush.