And they fall into step with me, one on either side. Oh, shit.
“Hey there,” one of them says, the older one. He’s like granite beside me and he’s walking so close, his arm brushes against mine with each step. Arms like that, they’d easily break me in half.
When I turn to answer him, his brother on my other side asks, “You live around here?”
And all at once I know what’s going to happen. I can feel it like I can at night when I’m in bed and can still feel the pitter-patter of salt against my hands and face like a ghost inside the house. With some sort of sixth sense I realize they’re going to jump me. They see what I’ve bought and they’re thinking I have money and they’re going to knock me down and rob me blind. But I only live a few blocks away. I keep telling myself this. I can make it that far.
“Not far,” I answer, turning to look at him. I don’t like this. Have I said that yet?