Red Hoodie

I’m nineteen,

walking a dog

at 2 AM. I spot

Red Hoodie. He

pauses. I walk

faster. I make the

block 3 times after.

1st time: ignores his

conversation partner.

2nd time: is gone.

3rd time: follows me in

his car. I look at the

sidewalk

to guide me back home.

I’m twenty-four with

a complex about being

twenty-four. I don’t walk

dogs for hours at a time at

2 or 3 in the morning anymore.

I’m at the gym like a normal person,

but

doing cardio and sweating

embarrassingly unlike the regulars.

I spot a Red Hoodie. A hiding figure.

Always perplexed by enigmas, wishing

to emulate their desperate and blinding

need to be Seen and Unseen. A ghost.

Or my delusions fading into my reality.

The entertainment has me uncaring.

Fire can’t be kept hidden. No eye contact, but admire me regardless. Let’s not engage.

I just want to be seen.

Walking contradictions.

We’re surrounded by mirrors. If we pass up the sign, we have to make the block again.

Again.

And again.

Published by Jaz

xxxx.

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