Sweat trickled down the back of my neck, it was getting really hot waiting for these two buffoons to help me out, which they would do, one way or another. The old man knew none of this. He wore long brown and black checked pants with a cream-colored button down shirt, seemingly unaffected by the humid August heat. It reminded me of some of the street people who lived near my summer job on the west side of Chicago. They always wore layers and layers, lying so still in the shade of trees, I sometimes wondered if they were dead.
People cling onto strange things.
His hair was completely gray, with no hint of the color it used to be in it, and combed over a large bald spot that started on the top of his head and spread to the back. The closer he got the crazier he looked. I had a feeling in my gut, the one I always get when something strange is going to happen. Closer and closer, I could feel the crazy gleam in his eyes. My friend Beth says that I am a crazy person magnet.